Sleeping Dragon Howlite

There has always been a slight disconnect from Gavriel and the rest of the wolves of Sleeping Dragon only for the reason they are not Seageda. They are not the wolves he fought with against other packs or hunted in order to feed their own. The coastal home will always run through his veins but things are different now. His children ran the rocky terrain here, instead of their sandy shores, and are the first generation born within Drageda. As much as he often missed his home, and felt a little apart, he knew he isn't meant to be anywhere else. He'd grown fond of them, of Gyda and Dio and everyone in between and there are a few wolves he isn't necessarily close to but time will likely change that.

The border on the borders of their borders has been there for some time, not worthy of a proper burial but instead a warning to others. The extent of her death, for he had not been there that day, is unknown to him but the end result has given him all the information he needed and not a question was brought to attention.

Making another round of the borders, he is surprised to find Portia with old blood and spoiled meat smeared across her face and Rebekka not too far. Portia he has gotten to known but the Trigeda wolf is often elusive, often leaving him to wonder if she still exists within their realm. Her scent lingers here and there, telling him she isn't gone, but none of them are strong and their time together has been limited. He is able to catch the garbled sounds of a question and he picks up his pace to a steady trot with ears forward to hear the answer.