Sleeping Dragon Hiy hiy

On her third day in Sleeping Dragon, Wildfire finally felt well enough to get up and move around a bit. Stretching carefully, she poked her head out of the den where Thuringwethil had left her, then slunk out into the streaming April sunshine. She blinked slowly, her gaze sweeping over her unfamiliar surroundings, then began to meander slowly away from the den. It felt good to stretch her legs, though she kept her pace easy to give her poor, battered body a break.

She wished Thuringwethil or even Magpie was with her, yet Wildfire understood quite well the demands of leadership (not to mention one currently under the threat of war). As she moseyed, she thought of Floki but quickly pushed it out of her mind. She would have preferred company, yet Wildfire was a scout for a reason. Here was a whole new territory to explore and map. Her heart beat with anxious excitement at the prospect of, well, prospecting. And she would hopefully meet some other pack mates while she was at it.

Avoiding the heights of the mountain itself, the slender Kappa tracked a sulfurous scent and found herself standing in a geyser field. She drew in a deep breath—her ribs ached dully in protest—to catalog the smell. Wildfire then approached one of the smaller spouts, her nose skimming over a nearby stone rimmed with salt like a margarita glass. Curious, she gave it a tentative lick, the sharpness of it tingling on the tip of her tongue.