Sleeping Dragon forget stardust; you are iron

The few days since her return came and went scarcely noticed. She does not stray far from the middle of the territory but she doesn’t interact much with the rest of them unless she needs to. Something wrong sits at the base of her neck, gripping her in a way that she can’t turn and snap at the assailant, and she struggles to find something to distract her for a little while. In an attempt to clear her mind so she can make room for the future, she moves through Hougeda with no particular destination in mind.

When she comes across Eske, with a deerskin in tow, she tilts her head and slows to a stop. Thuringwethil chuffs softly for attention, adjusting her course to angle toward the warrior child. She hasn’t seen any of the children since she’s been back and Thyri’s absence, more than usual, hasn’t gone unnoticed, nor had Freyja’s. Her own feelings remained tucked away as she draws up close to the goufa, knowing the last week or so hasn’t been easy. With the departure of her parents, not an easy decision, she is sure to feel some of the weight of it.

“Hei,” she finally calls with a wave of her arched tail. “Gafen sis?”