Sleeping Dragon Feathers

The wolves that Thuringwethil had inducted in needed to know that Gyda was Heda's equal and that her voice was just as strong as The Commander's. It held just as much weight and if Cirrus had any hopes of remaining in their ranks when his imprisonment was over then he would have to appease Gyda, too. He peed himself, she realized, when she smelled the scent of his urine. For the briefest of moments, this gave Gyda pause. She was no tyrant, she loved her people ...but Cirrus (currently) was not one of her people. He was a mistake taken in by Thuringwethil for a purpose that Gyda wasn't so sure she knew. It was not a bad thing to make it known that she was not a threat to be taken lightly. She did not get where she was today without a little ferocity, after all. Her culture was brutal and unforgiving and instilled fear in the hearts of men and women alike and it was for good reason.

He stuttered out his skills which consisted of gathering feathers and down for her den. Something she, herself, could do well enough on her own; and then he mentioned babies. Her babies. The prisoner, Gyda couldn't help but think as she clenched her jaw, was lucky she was not pregnant now because she would have attacked him. As it was, she fought the urge, if only because there was nothing for her to protect. Yet. “I do not trust you,” Gyda spat at him. “I do not trust anyone that does not respect our laws and who ignore our borders.” In case that wasn't already clear enough; but Gyda couldn't be arsed to care if she was being redundant. “You will learn to hunt when you are able,” Because Sleeping Dragon could always use more hunters, especially when she became pregnant. “and you will help Lucani replace the medicines she has used to heal you.” Because, in Gyda's mind, this only seemed fair: replace what he'd taken. It was the standard for all of them, and she saw no reason he should not be held to it whether he was a prisoner or not.