Firefly Glen up all night, you wore your falling heart

The woman dismissed the interaction with the explanation of her light sleeping. It is a strange idea to her, to sleep out in the open so, but she doesn’t bring it up. She does not go far from Drageda without someone with her and her wolves—a whole group of them—are only a call away. Plus, the wolf has proven no reason for her to be on guard any more than any stranger she runs in to that is, so far, rather kind.

She mentions her name and pack, the latter of which she does recognize, and hums quietly to herself. Étoille had no information from his visit to the vale and thus they remain neutral.

”Not really,” she begins to answer and idly points in the direction of the coast. ”On the coast, north a bit.” Perhaps she had been the one Étoille spoke to, or maybe she even knows of their missing pack mate—she is unsure how much he’d given them in return on his visit—but she keeps her wonders under wraps to focus on her current companion. The free spirit of her wandering reminds of her Wildfire and she softens a little. ”I’m Thuringwethil.”