Qeya River under the dome

The woman seems to stumble across her words frequently and Thuringwethil remains quiet as she gets through them. It is when she announces where they are from—to her surprise—that requires effort not to cross the river. Her fur bristles around her neck and down the length of her spine. Their scent had not been indication of the grotto pack and they didn’t seem to be phased by their name, which only leaves her with more questions. Thuringwethil takes a step closer with a low growl rumbling in her chest.

“You follow a fool,” she tells them. Her voice no longer holds the lightness it had before as she retains the growing vibration within. Ignorance had not saved Esaro or the Maplewood but nor had he learned from it. Vuk and her son are victims for something they did not ask for, that they were not informed for, and Thuringwethil wonders just how many lives the bastard puts at risk before he changes his ways? Something has to be done to end this vicious cycle of sacrificing his followers. “Why do you follow a man that so carelessly puts the lives of his wolves at risk?”