Gyrfalcon's Keep did you really think

she steps forward, a shift of her weight; unintentional but it stirs the silt of the brook’s bed ‘round her paw all the same. her drink finished now, she lifts her head, salmon pink tongue drawing across her jowls to collect the stray droplets. the commander has been out here for hours now and there has been no sign of the saints —

praimfaya?

her name, slicing thru the chilled autumn air causes every muscle in her body to pull taunt. she assumes that someone of the saints has tracked her, that somehow they slipped beneath her radar …

frostbound gaze peers over her shoulder before her body follows suit, turning to face the one who calls out her name; a question that lingers in the air between answered by the scarred face of the commander who prepares to let the draconian in her unchained only to pause. she recognizes the face …and the trigedasleng that follows.

relief washes over her like a tidal wave and her muscles instantly relax. natshana, the daughter of thyri’s name falls from the commander’s lips; joyful and curious. hakom yu kamp raun hir?