Kildeer Rest Bring back the summer

She knew her age had not benefited her in Seageda but, for the most part, the wolves had been accepting of her role. The spirit had chosen her, after all. She’d won the conclave. She’d killed her opponent and it may have been a stroke of luck on her side, but it had been enough for her to win. That should have been enough. Here, however, she’d seen the way others had looked at her, almost questioning, but most never spoken much beyond that.

“You’re not much younger than I am, you’re right,” she observes, moving slightly when Wildfire does, if only to keep up. “I was eight months old then.”

Thuringwethil swallows the lump that formed in her throat, that she hadn’t realized had been sitting there, but outside of Seageda and those of blood born at the sea, didn’t know but those in Drageda are learning, slowly, and had accepted her rule. Gyda wasn’t much older than she, either, but she’d taken her lead in different ways.

Wildfire moves forward and lowers to the ground in a less than graceful swoop and one side of her muzzle pulls up into half a smile. The offer is presented as the girl gets comfortable and awkwardly, Thuringwethil remains standing and watches, considering the option of letting her guard down. Wildfire’s nose turns, exposing her throat more than she ever would have, but she finds herself dropping to the ground. Her belly touches the cool grass and she shifts into a sphinx-like position several feet away, but with her companion turned upside down, she allows herself to crawl the remaining distance, kick her legs out, and rest on her side—not quite pushing herself all the way to her back.