Phoenix Maplewood and make Death proud to take us

sorry for the delay and this crap u have to read

Thuringwethil picks her head up, licks at her muzzle, and rescans an area she never let her eyes fall from. At first everything seems normal but there's something that tells her otherwise and she moves a few steps in one direction to almost come face to face with him. His face, or lack thereof, might be unrecognizable, !$5 she recalls easily with a weird mix of resentment and relief. The distance between them is significant but not great enough she can't hear him call her given name. As Drageda has taken full swing, the use of it is limited and her ears twitch upon her head.

"Heda," she calmly corrects. Even if Warbone no longer lived on the dragon, her title is no different, no less superior than it has always been. However, her posture doesn't stiffen as it might have before but her assertion is still no different. Her tail, always a flag, offers one shake—the meaning unclear—and her head crowned, as always, as she walks upon land she claimed so many months ago, land she has kept free of settlers, that she has kept hers.