Sleeping Dragon deyon ai raun maun

Seegryn’s silence is enough of an answer. One of Thuringwethil’s brow lifts, watching as she struggles through the frustration. She steps to the side to avoid any flailing, flying dirt, and the potential of the girl’s escape, but by the time she reaches the edge to jump, she’s met with a hard hit to the ground. The large wolf doesn’t move more than canting her head forward to peer over the side to the heap on the base of the trench.

“Nodotaim,” Heda commands. And if she were to not succeed; again.