Sleeping Dragon strik-skyplei

Gavriel, used to warriors as his companions, had found the other wolves strange company. Wolves like Sangilak and his Heda kept him grounded, reminded of their home far more brutal than the lands of the teekon but the peace—even with the tensions to the south—is a welcoming change. It had been a few days since Thuringwethil had sent off Vercingetorix to return to Trigeda and let them know of her new rule. Whether he would return or not would determine their connection, the wolves that remained loyal or not, but he is hopeful he would eventually return with good news.

His distracted by a sudden rumble and scramble and a bird flew a little too close to his head that catches him off guard. He ducks and turns to see the strange pattern of Seregryn but she’s staring down at plump bird. He hadn’t seen the action, but he’s able to concluded she’d successfully taken an animal of flight down—a feat that isn’t so easy—and he feels a swelling of pride in his chest. Familial, perhaps, but as their future leader. Thuringwethil’s death does not linger in his mind, he knows it is likely to happen sometime—commanders do not last long, but perhaps in these peaceful lands she can extend her life longer than the past.

The large male shifts his weight and dips his head, looking at the woman with a flat expression but his tail wags his congratulations anyway.