Qeya River let light not see my deep and black desires

eske knows that she should not be leaving drageda's territory so soon. her wounds are still healing and sore but they are shallow and if she thought her little impromptu jaunt would be life threatening she'd have never risked it. she can't sit still — and part of her feels guilty because she is sure that she is portia's worst patient ( it runs in the family ) but the thought of remaining cooped up in one of drageda's caves drives her to near madness. she is claustrophobic and impatient and when she is cleared for returning to patrols she takes advantage of her new found freedom.

she travels further than she's intended but the trek has thus been uneventful and if there was one thing about this war that eske learned it was that be keeping to drageda's territory except on sanctioned missions has impaired her ability to be a effective tactician. in order to know how the enemy operates she can't continue to be a hermit. drageda would not crumble just because she steps out on small scouting trips. breaking her habits is hard but the truth is she is not a leader and is not bound by the same obligations as thuringwethil and dio are. she has the freedom to venture out, to discover and to learn. the territory of the qeya river is cold. the small breeze that kicks up is bitter and cold and though her thick winter coat keeps out the worst of it she still shivers as it hits healing wounds salved and dressed by portia. it was no matter, she tells herself. she is a dragon. she is drakru and the cold was nothing. a numbing agent to the smart of pain of slightly aggravated injuries.

there is a scent upon the breeze and eske's steps cease on instinct, each muscle pulling taunt as her blue-green sea glass colored eyes take in the hulking form of the male feet away from her position. he nearly blends into the icy landscape around the pair, except for the splash of sand against icy fur. she does not recognize his scent nor his appearance thus, for the moment, she ignores him. not truly, of course, she merely acts like it as she bows her head to lap at the ice cold water that struggles to run beneath the thick ice that encases it and threatens to completely freeze it. she is still acutely aware of his presence and the swivel of her ear in his direction is the only tell-tale that she's both aware of and monitoring him. she's in no actual shape to fight but that does not mean she is not prepared nevertheless. she is weary of strangers and all the time she's spent cooping herself up in drageda's territory has done nothing but nurse and nurture that weariness that often blurs the line into hostility.