Larksong Grotto what are we made of but hunger and rage?

With a lot on her mind the last few days, and new information from Warbone—how had he already encountered so much did surprise her, but she likes the enthusiasm as he morphs into his new life. Those belonging to Seageda sit somewhere on a back burner while she takes on one project at a time. Reek’s budding new pack, for instance, would pose a bigger threat to her than those coming to join her hierarchy, something she doesn’t quite have room for. 

Hopeful things would fall into place, she only allows herself the brief time she is waiting for Reek to sort it. The moment she sees the dark figure materialize, she tries to ease her posture but with little success. The newly crowned alpha doesn’t seem to mind and her ears twitch back against her head for a second, before returning to angle forward as her name is slaughtered.

“Thuringwethil,” she corrects with a quirk of an eyebrow; if she had her way, he’d be calling her by her title, but for now she waits it out to see what he wants. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been dejected and her sympathy had only reached so far. Back on his throne, nearly surrounding her own kingdom, she tucks the friendliness away.