Sleeping Dragon They will never even find what is left of you

The woman gives her a brief answer but one she likes to hear, assuming it’s not connected some illusion that the beast beneath her feet is anything but what the earth has created. The fear of the smoke at the top turning into anything more than it is has yet to exist or cause room for concern—she’s certain they can escape quickly enough in the face of danger.

“This is Sleeping Dragon,” she introduces then, a name appropriate for a beast as she holds down. “We are Drageda here. If you are willing to learn our ways, you will be welcome, and when you prove yourself to us, you will become Drageda too.”

Without the consideration of her former queen, and the dynamic they had, Thuringwethil is able to make decisions without a second thought. The Heda’s spirit does not often lead her wrong, as long as she makes the correct interpretation, and intercepting new followers is no different. She doesn’t have to worry about them accepting two different cultures, even if the vikings will remain an influence, Drageda will be born again.

“I am Heda Thuringwethil,” she finally says, nose tilting a fraction higher. “What can you bring to us?”