Dragoncrest Cliffs all I've done so far is not get killed

He yields to her command: both verbal and non verbal. Sharp, seaglass blue-green gaze does not waver as it settles upon him, watching as he sinks into a more submissive posture, his tail tucking slightly between his legs. The warrior princess is protective of Drageda’s borders and even when he speaks Trigedasleng as fluently as she, offering his name and where he comes from: Maungeda — mountain nation — she knows the words and is only vaguely familiar with the pack; vague familiarity through word of mouth, however, is hardly enough to assuage her guard and allow it to fall. “I am Eske kom Drakru, The Commander’s Cheka.” She offers in introduction, though her dominant posture does not relax. She is in charge here until Thuringwethil or Dio come upon them, at least, and he would do well to remember it. She is young and she knows that older wolves have a tendency to think that age triumphs skill (it does not); and though he looks young and is from one of the Nations she does not let her guard drop. “You can tell me about yourself while we wait for Heda,” The warrior princess invites. “What skills do you have to offer Drageda?” She initiates the conversation by striking at the core of what she truly desires to know: what use he would be. Trades and skills were important to Drageda and if a trade was not earned within the time frame Heda gives they would be culled from the pack. Perhaps it is harsh, but Eske does not think of it as such. It is simply their way.