Sleeping Dragon i suggest next time try feeding me to dragons

She knew some of the basics of this story but she'd either forgotten this detail or never been told. Wildfire's face looked stricken when Thuringwethil mentioned she'd only been eight months old at the time. She had been beaten—and done her more than fair share of the same—while still a baby, by Teekon Wilds standards. She understood that the culture was very different in some ways but it still surprised her that someone should be exposed to such savagery at such a tender age.

Rather than voicing her concerns—she didn't want to risk insulting offending the commander's upbringing—Wildfire forced her lips into a little smile and asked, "Do you know what I was doing when I was eight months old?" It was meant sort of rhetorically, though the yearling took a moment to think back. "I was... still living with my parents, sheltered and content. Although I was considering moving to Moonspear, I'm pretty sure." She paused, humming thoughtfully. "Yeah, because I came of age and joined the adult ranks not long after moving there."

It surprised Wildfire a little when she realized that talking about Moonspear didn't hurt or really bother her. It was like looking back at a dream or maybe even a past life. It felt so distant. Of course, she didn't dwell on her reasons for leaving, the events leading up to it or the day of her final departure. Wildfire was pretty sure those memories would unfortunately remain painfully clear for as long as she lived.

"Anyway," she said in the next beat, "I know you can look after yourself, obviously, and that you're in good hands to boot. But that doesn't mean I don't worry and maybe fuss a bit. That's my right now, right?" the Sjötta quipped playfully, nipping at the fluff on the Heda's cheek before withdrawing, maintaining that little bit of space between them to avoid suspicion.