Moonspear nothing can stop us

Gyda had doubled back to Ragnar's grave after returning from her trip north, though she had taken a longer route to investigate Ravensblood Forest to ensure that it still remained unclaimed. At least there was that, she told herself attempting to find a silver lining in the clawing grasp of reality as it sunk into her again (this visit absent of Krypton's companionship) causing a painful ache in her heart. There was surely a piece of it missing, torn out the moment she had unwillingly began to make sense of the grave and to whom it belonged to. Not that she would have rather it been Thistle's, mind. The horrible truth was she would give anything for it to be any wolf other than Ragnar's decayed body beneath the ash tree and mound of dirt. The Scandinavian knew that it was a cruel thing for her to think but ...she thought it nevertheless. Knowing that it was horrible and cruel didn't change the fact that it was how she felt and what she wished for; but of course Ragnar's scent was no where to be found and thus it was the only logical conclusion the shield-maiden could draw. 

A hefty sigh had left her lips as she had torn herself away from her father's burial place to follow the unfamiliar scents laced with a scent she would recognize anywhere: Thistle's. So long as she followed the scents she felt confident they would lead her to where ever it was her mother settled ...and if they did not then she was determined to get answers. She would see her mother, of that there was no room to negotiate. The trail had taken her past The Sentinels through the Honeyed Pasture, down into the Deepwood Weald, around Moonstone Quarry, and through Silverlight Terrace to a towering peak. She stood back now, more than a respectful distance from the pack's borders, though the viking had drawn nearer to sniff at them, to assure herself that Thistle was indeed here and she had not been led on some wild goose chase through what felt like most of the southern half of the Teekon. 

The strong scent of her mother, while not as strong as some of the other scents, confirmed that her mother was here. Or, at the very least, had been here. Inside Gyda was anxious with longing and a bit of nerves. Her and Ragnar had fought and that was the last time she'd seen either of her parents, and she wanted to fix that though she would never have the chance to apologize to Ragnar and confirm that she'd been a stupid teenager. At least until her death and ascension into Valhalla; at least she could apologize to Thistle. That was what she could do and so it was what she would do. Tipping her silver muzzle towards the sky Gyda let out a howl, announcing her presence and waited for one of Moonspear's wolves to greet her.