Sleeping Dragon her eyes hold thunder and her blood is magma

It is not often Thuringwethil found herself inviting others into their way, into Heda’s embrace, but it is not often she found wolves that didn’t know who the commander is. Their reaches back home spread wide, between other packs, and they were generations of wolves that had followed since the beginning. How far back it goes, Thuringwethil isn’t sure, but the stories and lore of their people are well memorized. Explaining to an outsider, a non-believer, wasn’t common, but not impossible. Wolves would pass by all the time but only few stayed behind to adapt and merge into their system, which had never been much different than most wolves.

They simply wanted to survive.

“Because Heda does not lead astray,” she says, though it is not proof enough. “It is more than one conversation will give you. The first Heda has always been hard to trace back, over generations of following, things have been skewed, but what we do understand is when Heda had her living form, she’d been a great leader. She won battles among the others and for years kept everyone safe against the odds.

"She told her followers that when she died, she’d select and live within the next commander.” She inhales sharply, thinking about various reactions she’d seen over her time, of those she heard about. Some simply didn’t understand, couldn’t wrap their head around it. “She, and every commander after, have embodied the spirit and is within me now. When I die, and the next is chosen, I will live on in them.”