Sleeping Dragon we always tear our Gods to bits and eat the bits we like

It is revolution that walks on four paws. Traces of destruction is left in her wake.

She does not return to the empty shell of pack lands to take over and conquer, as she once had and instead thinks about the last time she stood upon Sleeping Dragon, the ground shaking beneath her and a call screaming into the night to run north. They’d lost a lot, that night. Their home, their wolves, and a lot to recover from. As she had fled Sleeping Dragon with blood on her paws, she returns to the same way.

A new mark adorns her shoulder, fresh and scabbed, marked in front of the rest of the wolves of Trigeda next to those she’s earned along the way. She’d touched their land as she had this one, and the cliffs, belonging to her. Wolves bowed in her presence and she remembers her teachings from long ago, everything she’d seem to have forgotten as she’d gone wayward with her decisions. The former commanders had come back, speaking to her in dreams nearly every night with the aid of counselors and healers of a life she’d once left behind.

They’d wanted her to stay after the win but she knows on some level she cannot. Drageda is not the same without her and she is not the same without it. Trigeda has been capable before and will continue to do so and if not, they know where to find her. Eager she is to return home, she does not speed and instead wanders the incline and depths of the Dragon, once quiet now feels weak beneath her paws. The ground seems to vibrate with life despite the cold around them and she turns, looking along her path for those that follow, before setting her sights on her destination.

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