Permafrost Hollows they have loved your sorrow but they will learn to love your rage instead

@Semet

She had searched for Eli. For Smoke. She'd searched for Snacha, too. Each time, she's come up empty handed. For the two of Seageda blood, and their oath to their Heda, had been the most surprising. Their loyalty waned. The corruption had gotten to them. It is the only thing Thuringwethil could think to be true. For generations, her wolves had followed their Heda but what had made her different? Her age? The youngest to win the conclave, even by a stroke of luck, but luck that happened nonetheless and the spirit was never wrong. Her body would have faded away if she couldn't house it, if she weren't worthy, and yet they questioned her.

Warbone, however, didn't have the same notion. He'd followed her for a reason unknown, a bond that spoke between two wolves and their survival. He saw the god in her.

Or so she thought.

Now, he's gone.

The warrior's scent is gone from Sleeping Dragon and the one that often leads to the hollows have waned. Had he misunderstood her words in the heat of the moment? Hot headed and ambitious, his strength not in question, the disappearance is on his own free will. Abandonment, again. Seageda had never faced such betrayal as Drageda had seen and her heart aches in the face of failure. Where the commander's empire is to be rebuilt, it has shown little. Gavriel and Seregrýn, even Vercingetorix, had shown their loyalty but could she even trust them? With an unsettled rattle in her chest, and the night sky cloaking her in the shadows, she meanders quietly through the hollows for answers, for purpose, in hopes to find she's done the right thing after all.