Dragoncrest Cliffs i'm meaner than my demons

She hasn't been home for long — home, if that's what this could even be called.
Thus far Seregryn doesn't notice anyone of importance. She doesn't know who is who to begin with, but there is no Gavriel, and strangely, no Gyda. That is a relief. On one hand, the fos goufa was set on throwing the outsider back to the wilderness where she belonged; on the other, not having to waste her energy was a blessing in itself.

Yet as the girl paced across the cliffside (trying to explore the bulk of the territory while the heda was otherwise occupied), she thought she saw a familiar figure. The stranger was young but they cut a silhouette which resembled the once-queen, the northerner that Seregryn had always been so adamantly opposed to. The stranger moved with pride, and as Seregryn followed she discovered that the edge of the territory loomed around her. She could smell Thuringwethil's marks plainly enough — along with others, but none more apparent than that of the girl Wildfire she had met so many days ago. Strange to think that she survived while Gyda had not.

Eventually Seregryn would find out the truth. Beyond what had transpired to pull Thuringwethil and her people away from the mountainside, Seregryn needed to know if Gyda was ever to return — but her questions were for another time.

The entity she followed seemed to be in a good mood. She moved with purpose, creeping along the border, hunting for strangers or for their next meal. Seregryn traced a route after them without much thought. Traversing the cliffside was easier than the mountain slopes, she thought. It would be easy enough for the fawn girl to adapt to life here by the sea.