Sleeping Dragon Out of my league

It seemed Floki's elder sister—and it was as strange to think of her that way as it was ineffable—did not want to pry any further into the breakup. Wildfire inwardly sighed in relief. She was glad she'd mentioned it, if only to unburden herself from any lies by omission, yet even happier that they wouldn't be lingering on the subject. She truly didn't wish ill will upon Floki, yet that didn't mean she wanted to sit here and dwell on the singular most painful part of her past.

Gyda inquired after her mother, which shouldn't have surprised Wildfire. The yearling's lips parted, then closed again as she thought back on what she knew of Thistle. She had been a very sweet and soft-spoken woman, though Wildfire hadn't known her all that well. Thistle hadn't been very involved in the day-to-day life of the pack, remaining sequestered away somewhere. Wildfire had always been under the impression that Thistle still hadn't coped with Ragnar's death.

She hated to tell Gyda that but since she was on a roll with brutal honesty today, she replied, "Truthfully? She was always sort of on the fringes. I never saw her much and didn't really get the chance to get to know her. What I did know was that she was still grieving over the loss of your father." She paused, then added, "I'm sorry, I wish I had a happier update," as Wildfire shifted a little restlessly.