Sleeping Dragon sleeping with the moon and the stars

Freyja doesn’t speak but she can feel the tension in the air. Thuringwethil holds her breath for a moment longer without moving, for if the elk could see her it will surely charge. Uncertain if it has any sight left, Thuringwethil isn’t willing to risk a scared, in pain, and strong creature on either of them. Eventually, it makes a low, bellowed cry and begins hesitant steps in the opposite direction, away from the geyser opening into the outside world.

“We need to keep him here,” she then says to the girl, turning down to glance at her but her gaze returns quickly to the hoofed beast. “Wintam Dina will be soon and the mountain has rewarded us,” she says, no longer suspecting the mountain may be a danger for them.

This sign of peace, perhaps an offering, for their winter feast has been handed to her in no other perfect timing. Her ears shift and she looks to the girl with a brow lifting.

“We always have a feast before winter, a sign of hope for a fruitful winter, and a feast once winter is over, to be thankful for surviving it,” she explains though she finds herself drifting back to the elk for a moment longer before she nudges the girl back the way they’d came. “I have not been through a whole winter here so I do not know the extent of what we will face but they were harsh in Seageda.”