Sleeping Dragon is 'i love you' a fact or weapon?

If it had not been for Seregrýn, for Drageda as a whole, she wouldn't have seen Gavriel on. Unable to provide for the Fos Goufa as she needs, it had been best to send her back to the wolves that can do the things she can't. If the escort hadn't been necessary, she'd imagine the warrior would spend his nights nearby out of duty, bound by Drageda and by his own paternal responsibilities. In the meantime, she'd taken that place until he returns to his post. Thuringwethil doesn't mind, enjoying seeing the little balls of pudge and cuteness, swell each day and their little habits yet to develop into much of a personality.

The doubt Thuringwethil has in Gyda as a leader has, for the most part, subsided. Gyda had someone to fall back on when it came to their leadership, even if they did provide a bit of a strain, and things haven't been all that different when it comes to their duties. It keeps her busy, distracted, and there's a guilted sort of relief for having not seen much of @Wildfire in a few days, no matter how much she'd drop something to spend a few minutes with her—for which gives her a little surprise.

The sun had begun to set and Thuringwethil takes her nightly stand outside the den, dismissing the wolf guarding for the day, and eventually lowers to the ground several years away. She can hear an occasional comforting word or a gentle squeak, but it comes and goes as they all alternate their sleep. With the sun sinking into the sky, Thuringwethil not quite tired, she simply rests in leisure, enjoying the time to herself as much as she can manage while she guards the den nearby.