Sleeping Dragon i suggest next time try feeding me to dragons

It was hard to stray from the commander's side, yet she must. There were things that needed to be done and she also needed to respect the commander's need for discretion. If Wildfire hung around her like a lovesick puppy all the time, it would be a dead giveaway. So the yearling hunter forced herself to move to the territory's outskirts to scout for small game, which she delivered to the cache nearest to the whelping den whenever she made a kill. This task preoccupied her for a few hours, then she took a break around noon to nibble at her latest catch and found herself wandering back toward the Heda's den without even thinking about it.

A little over halfway there, she heard the commander's call. Licking her lips, Wildfire hastened the rest of the way there and found a grayish figure standing over Thuringwethil. She smelled blood and immediately scrambled to the commander's side, nearly forgetting herself as she reached to nose her ear. But then the Sjötta froze and drew back slowly, amber eyes grazing over the wound on the Heda's crown momentarily before catching her eye. Then, finally, she turned to acknowledge the other she-wolf.

Wildfire could not remember ever feeling something like this as a burning, possessive jealousy rose within her breast. She's mine, she thought loudly in the stranger's direction even as she tried to school her face into a friendly expression. The Sjötta was a little surprised at herself and felt her cheeks heat. She shifted uneasily, trying to think of what to say even as she tried to shove the unwarranted covetousness into a dark closet at the back of her mind and smooth her metaphorical petticoat.

"What happened?"