Sleeping Dragon love isn't brains, children, it's blood

To the question, Thuringwethil nods her head. She resets her focus ahead of her with ears forward and eyes back and forth in attention. It will be the first time for the puppies to breech the border of their home and there isn't another to accompany them. She glances behind her, just in case any of the others area near, but she redirects her gaze forward as they pass by one geyser after the next. Soon, they've crossed the entire length of the field where the strength of smells of several of her wolves have come by.

"Here," she announces, taking the last final steps. It is where the marking begins, stretching out several yards here and there with their scents lining their claim.