Sleeping Dragon Come away from the water

The promise of greenery around their home will eventually bring the rest of the life back to the area. The lands to the east and south of them, open and free, will give them a good advantage, will the packs to the west and north might struggle against one another. Driving out the phoenix wolves removes some of their struggle—if they’d been in the moraine with the moose calf, there’s no telling the outcome—and the thoughts of picking up the Dragon wolves somewhere else began to subside. Still hungry, still tired, Thuringwethil knows they have plenty to overcome but in due time, it will happen, and the thought often puts the young leader in a decent mood.

A scent, however, catches her attention and her ears swivel upon her head to try and recall a howl. At first, a low growl rumbles that someone lingers upon her borders without making themselves known and she begins to slink forward to first peer upon the one considering intruding her land. Thuringwethil bites back her own call for the time being and makes her way closer until the scent begins vaguely familiar. Her brows burrow in confusion between her slate eyes and her head lifts, tail arched above her tail tightens as if it had been born that way. A natural state Thuringwethil fingers herself in but there’s a slight relax once she determines the threat level is minimal.

“Saria?” she says and takes a few more steps to close the distance. It had been months since she had seen her friend and her eyes soften in her presence, but the confusion of her being remains.