Sleeping Dragon there's galaxies hidden behind your tired eyes

The wolf puts a name to her familiar face and Thuringwethil blinks—slowly—once as she scans the rest of her. Nothing in particular stands out other than her strange markings, but they aren’t strange enough for her to remain on. She stands out, at least, just as Seregyrn does, and makes it easier to accept her words rather than some other wolf of one color, or typical patterns. Thuringwethil knows she’s seen the face, even if she’s never spoken to her.

“I see,” she says, lingering on the information for a moment longer—even if she’s already decided on the next: “You come here out of curiosity and not duty?”

And then, a beat later, “why are you really here?”