Dragoncrest Cliffs Traveling the line of this vertigo

For most of the day, Thuringwethil doesn’t know what to do with her time. Something tells her to stay close to Wildfire, to protect the puppies, to protect her, but the fire of irritation has long since claimed a place in the back of her mind. I am not made for this, she thinks. All of this, of a mate and family, had been forced from her teachings and the idea alone is foreign. Until she came to these lands, she’d not felt much more than fondness for her wolves outside of the love she has for each and every one of them. When they hurt, she hurts, but Wildfire isn’t just on another ball field, she’s an entirely different game. One that she did not get the handbook for.

Their time together has been a strain ever since the incident with Artaax. She barely had anything to say but the mood in the den began to change, more than she wants to admit at first, and she knows something has to be done. She thinks about Tirgatao and speaking with her but this territory goes against what she’s meant for, what she’s supposed to advise. The echo of her former advisor, even though he never said the words, speaks in her ears. The commanders in her sleep speak against it some nights but most of the time they are silent, unable to penetrate her to do what they want. It is there and choosing to ignore it can be detrimental to the rest of them. The last time she ignored them, the ground beneath them evicted them from their home.

With a rabbit hanging from her jaws, and the rain pouring down against her, she moves to the front of the den once she dismisses Arlo from his post. He disappears into the cavern and, with a deep breath, she pokes her head through to try and get out of the rain. Once she drops the rabbit, she carefully nudges it the remaining few inches.