Sleeping Dragon of all the things i left behind, i miss my heart the most

It is revolution that walks on four paws, with traces of destruction left in her wake. A burden she no longer has to bear once she’s shed the skin of her youth. Thuringwethil, even with sore feet and aching limbs, feels weightless from what she’s leaving behind. Her paws stained with blood of her people do not deter her while she moves. Her travels are primarily hidden by shadows, leaving her cloaked in darkness as she escapes the society she’s only known but forced to go, a decision so easily made she’d be slaughtered otherwise.

Thuringwethil turns her nose up, the sky dark. The stars do not shine through and she cannot see the moon in its glory but a haze trying to power through the barrier that keeps her hidden. The base of the mountain offers an overhang, protecting her from what little light is left of the night fighting to stay seen. 

The girl closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. The air is cold, her lungs numb to the intake, and only holds it a few seconds. She stops when her feet hit stone instead of snow and sits, easing herself into the shadows. In just a few hours, day break will begin and her travel would begin to slow but the need to travel does not linger in the back of her mind. Hidden in the depths, settling into the cave she’d found to rest her weary body, Thuringwethil leans into the cold stone that keeps her enveloped from sight. 

She rests her eyes, only for a moment, with a name faint on her lips.