Sleeping Dragon i want a eulogy while my body is still warm

Thuringwethil's cut off before she steps away and Wildfire is soon in her space with words she can barely register. She blinks a few times when she feels her cool nose against her fur and slowly she closes them when her muzzles presses her own. She leans into it and lowers her nose to catch the gentle, small embrace, and is surprised by how quickly she calms down. Her heart rate lowers, her fur evened out, and she's confident in the separation of reality and her dream. Still flashes of it come to mind but it's out of reach, for the time being.

She breaks the touch a moment later, searching the younger wolf's face. The word of her own language had barely been recognized, easily mistaken for speaking too fast; often times the right string of words would make sense between both tongues.

"I have had them before but it's been months," she murmurs. Her last string of nightmares, speakings, we're just before Seageda crumbled. "Something bad usually follows when the other commanders come to me," she tells her, scarcely a worry she might be misunderstood.