Dragoncrest Cliffs where is your pride now?

Something foul gnawed at her as she wandered the familiar sands of Ankrya Sound.

Drageda's scent grew faint.

Had Heda abandoned her lofty perch to seek fortune elsewhere, or had their ambitions finally grown too heavy for the foundations they stood upon? Was there more to the tone that colored Caiaphas' words as she spoke of them? A small, niggling part of her demanded answers, while the chiefly logical side of her knew better than to disturb a sleeping dragon. 

Akantha found the old trail and, after a final moment of deliberation, departed the sound and followed it south. She slipped past the stale markers designating the former borderline. No great, snarling beasts materialized from the shadows beneath the towering redwoods to rip her asunder; no cries of alarm. No questions. Akantha lowered her nose to sniff at an old scrape, but the recent rains had all but washed away the telling indicators of whom it once belonged to. 

Nothing. 

A fleeting little bubble of concern burst in her chest and she suffocated it instantly. They were not her friends, nor her allies, but their lords when she ruled Soteria. Akantha braced, shook out her nervous energy, and broke into an easy lope as she traversed the territory.

An hour passed and, by then, it was clear: Drageda was gone. 

But as she emerged from the western edge of the woodland on her way back to Rusalka, her keen eyes immediately set upon a two-toned figure in the distance. Black on white; she stood out against the verdant fields, and the churning blue seas beyond. Akantha pricked her ears and lifted her head as she scented the salt-kissed winds. Not Drageda, then who? 

The amazonian made no efforts to hide her approach as she strode boldly across the plain with her nose pointed directly at Stella.