Sleeping Dragon there's an old man sitting on the throne

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Eske had thought that Freyja would follow the lazy cant of her muzzle and leave her on her way to suffer through her own failures — though her first mistake had been going after it on her own and in this ignoring Wildfire's rule to not go after anything bigger than a rabbit on her own. She was eager to step out of Freyja's shadow and prove to the Bandrona and Heda that she could shine just as brightly as their golden child. A scowl had unconsciously began to form upon her lips, though this likely worked in the warrior princesses favor to keep her true ambitions and why she knew about the exact fawn that Freyja had been hunting herself.

As Freyja turned back to her, a hopeful look in her eyes Eske had not quite managed to scrub the fierce scowl from her face. She'd always been bad at controlling her emotions and her aggression. Sparring, training and patrolling helped: it gave her a healthy outlet to release all her pent up aggression but Eske was just a fierce and aggressive young woman by nature though whether this stemmed from her father's culture or it was the viking in her she would never truly know. She was not dainty. She was not elegant, nor gentle. She was sharp edges, cutting glares, blunt words and feral. Eske almost rejected Freyja's offer. The no was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't really want to turn it down. The want to reject it was a knee-jerk thing, afraid that if she accepted Freyja might somehow find out that she aspired to take on huntress as a secondary trade. Which was silly, Eske knew. Unless her sister could read her mind there was nothing to give it away. Hunting was crucial to her survival and she did know how to hunt for herself as all wolves did.

“sha.” Eske finally agreed with a light nod of her head, gesturing silently for Freyja to take the lead.

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