Dragoncrest Cliffs anatomy of a tidal wave

The downpour of rain does not deter her from duty and she does not seek shelter right away. The thunder rumbles the ground from a distance but there is still no urgency when she turns to find Tirgatao approaching. Her nose angles up when she comes to nudge her chin and relaxes as distance is put between them once more. She glances around through the heavy barrier of the rain, noting the Honon in the distance. He does not approach and she gives him no more acknowledgment as she turns back to the advisor.

“Sha,” she agrees, ears cupping forward and flickering with the irritation of heavy drops. “The lake has been low,” she observes, turning back out to the water. The promise of the rain given to them now in this moment will refresh the lake and hopefully pull in more prey for them.

Thuringwethil considers returning to the cavern to dry off but she knows she’ll suffer through a newly humid sauna with the rest of the pack and for the moment, she’ll enjoy what the world has given them. It doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing. The guardians don’t have to be a bad omen. The rain is a good thing. Her silver eyes glance away toward Isengrim once more but it doesn’t last long either. She remains in her native tongue and with the added cover of the rain blocking out most of the sound, she speaks at ease: “Hush fig au Finbak en sue. Ai don no sin in fou Seageda.”