Sleeping Dragon Forgive me, if you can

It doesn't surprise Thuringwethil when Gyda approaches. There has always been a fondness for the silent wolf from the queen, and catching the way the words roll off her tongue only confirms the feelings still remain. The corners of her lips twitch but she opens her jaws and her tongue wipes across her muzzle to hide the gesture. With a snap, the small wolf is on the ground in a flurry of fur and dust, reaching to each of their chins in greeting. Thuringwethil lifts her nose a little higher as he touches her but once he retreats, she glances toward Gyda for her reaction.

The barrier they face in that moment puts a frown on her features but she softens, given their circumstance. With the locusts still fresh in their minds, and a famine plaguing the lands, one less mouth to feed has been a little easier on them with a full hierarchy. The turn around the corner, she eases up the tension between her shoulders and offers, only once: "don't let it happen again."