Duck Lake a queen i am, but my throne is made of burned bones

Again, she mockingly snorts. He'd taken quite the rumble but regardless of the other wolves thinking he's dead, Thuringwethil knew the bastard survived the fall. Some simply knew how to get out of trouble with their life in tact and Kierkegaard so far has proven her right. She'd seen him hit the water sometime ago and what she thought was something ghostly in the distance. Only she'd bore witness that time and she'd easily pocketed away for another day.

"Where's the fun in that?" One eyebrow raises, tests him.

His question doesn't surprise her, their banter dying off—at least, temporarily—and she rolls one shoulder as if to say it isn't a big deal. It's not as if she's made life altering (and ending) decisions some months ago...

oh right.

"Seageda is gone," she answers instead, but doesn't hold out for long. "Just before winter, I suppose. And then I found my way here and resettled my claim upon a mountain about halfway through the season and here we are in the middle of summer, still strong."

There aren't too many that might be of her original home but a handful, at least. Enough to make it recognizable. Restarting with next to nothing and getting a return of her own wolves proves she's where she's meant to be. Whatever doubt seeded on the coast back home has been long gone and Thuringwethil has been nothing short of her calling since.