Dragoncrest Cliffs To hang your hopes on

She doesn’t move at first, staring at him for a long moment. She isn’t aware of any other wolf on the borders than Arrille and she feels the need to chase him off, but the scent of Thuringwethil—and Arrille, she notes—and so she keeps her feet planted. He points in one direction with his nose but she doesn’t take her pale green eyes off him. A weird feeling develops in her stomach the longer she looks at him, losing the idea that he’s a threat to Drageda to… something else. Her brows knit together and she tries to sort it but her mind alarms her with the thought of Blixen and what she would think and… well, that… is weird, right?

“Who are you,” she asks in a way that is less of a question and more of a demand (she’d been watching Thuringwethil and Eske) and well, Blixen called her nice and damned if she was going to stay nice!