Sleeping Dragon deyon ai raun maun

Thuringwethil listens as the younger wolf explains her intention and how she’d gotten from making a simple den to a trap that, ultimately, caught herself. She chuffs a laugh and a grin smears across her face, but she does not move to look for another way to help her out. She remains firmly planted, sitting back on her haunches with her tail thumping a few times on the ground. There’s even a slight tilt of her head, as if she’s confused about how she’d managed to capture only herself, but she glances away for only a moment in consideration.

“It’s at least an effective trap,” she comments with one roll of her shoulder. “If you find a way to get out, it defeats the whole purpose. Good job.”

Her grin widens; she knows it’s not the intent but she can’t help the amusement build in her chest. Slowly, the young leader stands to all four feet and dips her head. She turns to leave and takes a few, slow steps—with no real intention of leaving—and waits to see what she can draw out of the younger wolf.