Sleeping Dragon Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more

Thuringwethil doesn’t spend her days guarding Gyda’s birthing den, making her rounds of the borders and checking nearby places, and helping the others search for food. Her normal routine had become a little busier while her queen is out of commission and they are down a warrior until Gavriel returns from escorting Seregryn back to Trigeda. The trip isn’t a short one, either, and she expects him still several days from now. 

There is a call that triggers her mind, distracting her from her thoughts, and she picks her head up and looks in the direction it’d came from. It is a call that is not meant for her, or Gyda, but instead one of her renewed subordinates and a lifelong friend. Her interest is caught then and her proximity gives her the chance to get their first based on how loud it had been.

When Thuringwethil approaches, the wolf is comfortably laying on the ground and her eyes narrow. The rest of her tightens up, head squared back, and her tail arches royally over her spine before she drips her irritated words to the wolf: “why do you rest at my borders and call someone that is not the leader?”