Dragoncrest Cliffs 'cause london is drowing and i live by the river

Most days, Thuringwethil can barely feel the pain from her ribs. It’s gotten easier to get up and down and do the things she’s used to doing. She even felled a rabbit the other day (though not without a night of soreness to fight off) but she’s certain she can be back to her normal self within the next few weeks. With the pain subsided, for the most part, she’s able to mask it to a tee that others have easily forgotten the injury at all. Things may not be completely back to normal, and the funk she’s noticed lately isn’t really gone, but she feels the turning corner just around the bend.

The call that is made breaks her focus and she picks her head up from mid-drink in the lake near hougeda to listen closely. The intention leaves her curious and she licks her lips, settling into an even trot through the clearing, and then the forest, until she finds the origin of the howl. A wolf youthful in appearance holds her attention but it is only a remnant of a child she sees. Thuringwethil narrows her eyes but easily squares her shoulders and flags her tail over her spine in silence, a low inaudible rumble vibrating her chest in invitation.