Sleeping Dragon to marry the sea in a ceremony of storms

Freyja had been sleeping quite sometime before the earth began to move. At first it did not stir the Feisripa, but as it intensified, Freyja found herself waking suddenly. Despite her lack of comprehension on what was occurring, Freyja attempted to push herself onto her unsteady paws as she quickly attempted to get a grip on just what was happening. Panic rose from within as she looked at her family and despite her inner instinct, she lingered in the den for a moment. “W-What’s going on?” Any confidence that was characteristic of her mannerism was long gone in wake of her fear. But, despite this, the voice of reasoning seemed to finally get through to her, urging her outside.

Nudging Hvitserk, who slept right beside her, she then turned towards the den entrance and exited the family den. Blinding moonlight met her as she halted herself just outside of the den she winced at it and dropped onto her belly. Was this it? She couldn’t help but to think this. She did not notice if her family slipped around her in that moment, or if they had even left the den, and all she could find herself looking around wildly in an attempt to survey it all.

Soon enough, the mountainside relinquished it’s apparent anger with the wolves with a heavy sigh. Freyja’s head canted to the strong noise and her concern grew as a foreign puffing noise sounded. Turning her attention towards the source of the noise, Freyja’s eyes grew wide as the sight-- both horrific and enchanting-- that the mountain had presented them with. Ash and debris elegantly cascaded in the moonlight and despite Freyja inherent fear she felt somewhat calmed by the spectacle. To her, despite the littering of debris and the humming in the air, it seemed peaceful. She was unaware of just what this all meant, but it seemed to be better now.

She lifted her voice once the Heda had beckoned, adding her own call into the symphony of her packmate’s howls.