Sleeping Dragon what is right and what is easy

Thuringwethil doesn’t spend much time in her den. Some nights she doesn’t even sleep there. There’d been nearly two weeks she’d gone at Gyda’s every night when the puppies had just been born. Pinpointing her location at any given minute isn’t the easiest thing in the world and the only reason she swings by the den this afternoon is because she felt a conveniently timed rumble in her stomach. A cache near to her den has been stocked more often than not lately and she isn’t disappointed when she comes across it and rips the leg meat from the ground.

It hadn’t been there long, for it would spoil in the heat, and so she isn’t sure if the warmth is from the weather or how fresh it really is. However, she doesn’t think about it long and picks up her feet to leave. A few steps in the way she’d been walking brings another into view and her head tilts, looking over the aged form of Uleön as she patiently sits off in the distance.

“Hei,” she greets with a single nod of her head.