The Sentinels all change

The light snow that had continued to fall for the past several days continued its plight upon the Teekon Wilds, but Gyda, accustomed to the chill of Odinn's Cove in her months spent there was hardly bothered by it. She had stopped by Ragnar's grave again, offering a prayer and sacrifice of a hare to Oðinn. It was not much but it was the most she was capable of offering him based on her circumstances. Without a pack her choices in food were severely limited, dampened also by the scarcity of prey during the winter months. Surely the Gods understood that she made do and when she could offer the Allfather something worthy of his status she would. Her offerings were currently meager but offering them something was infinity better than offering them absolutely nothing. Ragnar had done the big sacrifice before her first birthday and they would be good again for another two years before the big sacrifices and ritual was required. 

That morn Gyda had her set on a different sort of errand, though, not in attending to her father's already attended to grave. Gyda did not know to whom the foreign scents belonged, though she assumed they were likely friends since at least two of them carried the scent of her mother, as well. Easily now, the viking queen could probably follow the fading scent trails right to her mother, like Hansel and Gretel following the trail of bread crumbs; not yet, Gyda deduced. Not yet, but soon. She very much wanted to see her mother again, to assure herself that she had not truly lost everything she had once held dear to her. Ragnar was enough, albeit his death left a massive hole in it's wake. An aching hole that nothing and no one would ever be able to fill; simply because there was never anyone that could measure to her father. 

For a while now Gyda had been aware of the pack's presence in The Sentinels, far too close to Stavanger Bay for her own liking — but this was not a war. Of course their claim made her feel like she could never reclaim the land that had belonged to her father, and while Gyda was not particularly happy about this per say, she knew it was not her only option; but it remained the burial grounds of her father and that meant more to her than anyone would ever know. When she neared their borders her steps slowed, black, leathery nostrils flared to inhale their scents as her frigid jeweled gaze swept over the familiar trees. How many times had she and her brothers hunted in that forest? Probably a few for they had not stayed together long, especially after she'd fled with a scared and only just pregnant Nerian to protect the Priestess. 

A respectful distance was left between her body and their borders and the viking queen tipped her head back and let out a call, alerting the wolves to her presence and her wish to converse with one of them.

mind if we update this to current?

Dante had tried taking it easy, he had.  The day previously he had remained in the den, trying to sleep off some of this dratted illness and kick it for good.  But halfway through a nap he'd woken in a panic, his throat feeling like it had closed entirely.  Blooming fear had brought him, pacing and wretching, out of the den, and after a while of slow walking and steady breathing he was able to thankfully bring it under control.  The experience had left the sour tinge of fear upon him, though.  Give him a foe he could fight any day, but he felt like his own body was betraying him.

He found that he actually felt better after patrols, the gentle walk opening his airways and clearing his head, so today he'd not even attempted to stay in.  He wasn't looking forward to meeting a foe, still feeling a bit shaky after yesterday's mistake, but when a call came, he immediately went to answer it.  

When he arrived he found a young woman standing a respectful distance away, and curiously he stepped forth, leaving their grounds so he could get a better look.  His tail was lifted but he was not aggressive in stance, ears forward in a congenial and questioning manner.  He didn't immediately say anything, choosing instead to give her the chance to introduce her reasons for being there.  It was fairly obvious he was a resident of the lands she had called upon.

Sure, I can say Gyda decided to swing by before she heads back. c: Thanks for joining! <3

With Thurin and a plan and a place they could call their own Gyda had much to focus her time and energy upon. There was still much to be done, and though Sleeping Dragon is not Stavanger Bay and would never fill the hole that leaving the abandoned land her father had cherished left in it's wake ...it was her own chance. To make her own legacy with Thurin...their legacy in these Wilds. To become a name separate of Ragnar's but also for it to be known that she was who she was because of him. She would always be his daughter ...his prodigy; despite that he had held the faith that it would be one of his sons to do it. There was a certain amount of pride that came along with the fact that she would succeed him. That she was the most like him out of her and her brothers (or so she chose to believe anyway). 

Gyda did not wish to linger south of Sleeping Dragon for too long, not with Thurin on the mend from the lone male's attack, not while there was much she could be doing to help the budding pack along. She would not procrastinate her return but there was a few things she wished to do first. Things that, when the pack truly came to be she doubted she would have the time for again. Perhaps ...if she were lucky, but travel beyond the immediate territories would not come for some time. There was still a part of Gyda that felt she should be defending the Bay, working to push these intruders away from the sacred territory and the infinitely precious decayed body that nurtured it's heart. Yet, it was not in the fate the Gods had written for her. 

“I am Gyda Loðbrok,” The Scandinavian queen introduced herself to the monochrome colored male that had approached her and added quietly though it was probably the most important part of her introduction: “Ragnarsdottir.” She did not know if he knew of Ragnar Loðbrok but if he didn't ...he would. “My father ruled the bay your pack borders. Stavanger Bay,” She had came to ask a favor, small thought it was, but realized that perhaps he might have some insight on what had happened. “My father did not associate with other packs but is there any chance you might be able to tell me what has happened to it?” Even rumor would suffice until she spoke to her mother. Providing Thistle would want to speak with her at all. 

Good deal :D

Some of the words that she spoke were unfamiliar to him, foreign in nature, but he knew of Ragnar and Stavanger Bay.  And, luckily for Gyda, he was one of few within Donnelaith who had the answers she sought.  The Plateau and the Bay had been on good terms when Peregrine led, though Dante had not continued that relationship in his own reign.  He did not believe in alliances between packs, and it seemed perhaps, despite what he had assumed at the time, Ragnar held that same belief.  So perhaps that was a good thing.

"I know of it."  She seemed to hold no enmity towards their claim, which was fortunate for her.  He was in no mood to brook threats to their home today, no matter what sort of fighting shape he was in.  "They have merged with a pack of the mountains and moved to a peak southwest of here.  I believe a wolf called Charon now leads."  He did not know what happened to her mother, though he hoped nothing bad.  Dante had met her once and found her pleasant company.  That Charon had taken her place was a definite step down in his eyes, though he had no way of knowing if Gyda's bias swung the same way.

Her companion spoke that he knew of it and though she tried her very best to remain composed she could not help the soft, nearly inaudible sigh of relief that left her lips. It would be easier ...that he knew of it and she assumed that he had the answers she sought. Even vague answers were better than her own speculations. She could have just as easily went and asked Thistle ...if her mother would have even agreed to see her that is, but her favor to ask did not belong at her mother's feet. Her mother was too far away. If she truly wanted the Bay Gyda was confident that she could take it ...and that only death would stop her from her goal but Thurin did not want the Bay, and Gyda understood that in a way she had to let go of it, despite how she desperately wished to cling to it. Her companion spoke that they had merged...telling her that Ragnar had been deceased when the decision had been made. No one would have ever uttered the word's “Ragnar” and “merger” in the same sentence; and there was no way he would have given up his Bay ...not while he had still drawn breath. In a way, Gyda supposed, he would forever be apart of the Bay. Ruling it even though another might stake a claim. His decaying body nurtured the soil and fed the roots of the ash trees; she could feel Ragnar like she could feel of the Gods. It was nothing she could explain. She simply felt it. In her heart, in her bones. 

“Charon?” She repeated, her brow furrowing in confusion. Charon was a few months younger than her. She remembered him but vaguely. She had been young when he'd been born (and was not around when Ragnar and Thistle had taken him in). In Gyda's mind he was still an infant ...though she knew he was close to her in age and hardly any more an infant than she. “I remember him vaguely but ...why would my mother let...” She cut herself off. It made no sense to her. “Did you hear anything about Ragnar's death?” Gyda asked then, hopeful. She had tried to reserve it but was unable to help it as it laced through her accented voice and expression. “The Sentinels were free territory the last I was in Teekon,” And would Ragnar still be alive there would no doubt be a war at the current moment, would the claim on The Sentinels still stand in that alternate universe. “Are you a new pack or relocated?” She inquired, simply curious.

She would get to her purpose, in time, though she was unsure if he would be willing to hear the favor she had to ask.

He wasn't sure what exactly this girl expected of him - what he knew of her target pack wasn't a whole lot, for he had kept to his own for the most part.  He hadn't even known Ragnar to be dead, though it made sense then why Charon had risen to the position he held.  And it made a bit more sense for Thistle to have stepped down if she had lost her mate.  Dante's stomach clenched in sympathy.

"We've heard nothing, but we haven't asked.  We had a wolf come seeking an alliance, but sent him away.  Our pack stands on its own."  At least had, though as he said it, he wondered if the words were now untrue.  Lasher had expressed interest in alliances, but he let the words stand.  It wouldn't hurt to allow this girl to think that was the way things were, at least for now.  "We are recently relocated."  He did not say where from, nor why.  But he knew one thing - if Stavanger Bay had been claimed, there would be no war, because there would be no claim of Donnelaith.  This forest had been chosen specifically because of its isolation, and her presence and status as one of Ragnar's offspring set him on edge.  Would she try to retake her previous home?  Now that they were settled, he knew he wouldn't sit well with that.  The bay was no more, and this was their home now.  He caught no tone of aggression or anger at finding them there, which appeased him some, but he wouldn't be fully at ease until she had left them behind her and moved on.  So he attempted to answer her questions as briefly as he could.

Dante relayed that they'd heard nothing of Ragnar's death. In her heart Gyda had considered the thought that perhaps they did to be too good to be true and it turned out she was right. His death was still a mystery to her and would be, she knew, until she spoke with Thistle Cloud. She could not put off reconciling with her mother — providing there was any reconciling to be done — and in her heart she did not wish too. She had amends to make. “An alliance,” Gyda repeated with a slight snort of mirthless amusement. Of course any traces of what Ragnar had built were gone. Charon was not Ragnar; would never be Ragnar, the fact that Dante spoke of an offered alliance was all the proof of that Gyda needed. She didn't say it aloud but she instantly disapproved even without giving Charon any sort of chance. She did not know the circumstances of his rise to power but she didn't like it even without knowing anything. “My father held to the belief that alliances were nothing but false pretenses. He said that in the end packs will always look out for themselves.” Though Odinn's Cove had taken Freyja's Moor under it's wing as they were sister packs and there had been a friendship between Thurin and herself. 

“I had considered reclaiming my father's Bay,” Gyda was honest, at the very least. “but instead decided to let sleeping dogs lay and claim further north,” She inhaled deeply and let it out. “I am here to ask a small favor of you and your wolves. My father is buried in the heart of the Bay, beneath the tallest ash tree. His grave is well kept and easily identified. I only seek that you please ask your wolves to not disturb it.” Perhaps she had no right but she asked it anyway, and she didn't think it too complicated or outlandish of a request to make; because the ramifications of what she would do if she found it defiled would be as if from the wrath of Hel herself. This was not specific but to any wolf who would ruin her father's resting place.

It sounded as though Ragnar and Dante held common views.  He had doubts that Charon had sanctioned the request (and honestly didn't remember the exact wording of the message) but he didn't bother correcting.  The gist of it had been there and it had been rejected, so the details hardly mattered.  He definitely had trouble believing that Charon, knowing that Dante led the plateau at the time, would have sent one of his wolves to make nice.  Likely a subordinate had been looking to up their standing and banked on the wrong spot.

That would have been an unwise course, Dante thought, but he did not say as much.  He did not want to start anything with this girl, not when she had already put that idea aside, but even the suggestion brought his defensive instincts to bear.  This land had been their new beginning, and already the Beta loved it well.  He would fight tooth and nail to keep it now that they had settled here, and he assumed the others of their pack would do the same. 

"I will let our Alpha know.  He is the reverant sort and will, I'm sure, gladly heed your request."  His tail lifted and he shifted a bit, hoping that was all.  He was ready for her to be gone.  They had no bad blood between them, and Ragnar had done much for Peregrine at least, but her words had failed to endear her to him and the familiar, cavalier way she had spoke of her short-lived desire to route them made him all the more eager to see her tail disappear.  It wasn't an unreasonable boon to ask, though Dante did not quite understand.  Where he came from, the dead were not buried, but were left to the scavangers as nature intended.  Why should empty shells be protected?  Honestly the idea of his body being smothered beneath the earth was a frightening, unappealing one, and he thought perhaps he should mention his desire that this never be done to him to Lasher.  It was a pretty macrabe subject.

Gyda's exit. Thank you for the thread! <3

In all honesty Gyda did not find it in herself to much care what these wolves thought of her once desire to reclaim her father's land. If she had wanted Stavanger Bay ...she would have taken it whether they approved or not. Her father had claimed them long before these wolves had relocated and as his daughter Gyda felt she had rights to the territory. However, Thurin had seen that such was not an issue and though it pained the shield-maiden she had turned her sights away from her father's legacy and towards the one she would build with Thurin instead. Perhaps one day she would have a son and he (preferably the one she believed would look like Ragnar) would come to reclaim the lands that rightfully belonged to the Loðbrok family. Do what she found that she could not. 

“Thank you,” Gyda spoke with nothing but the utmost sincerity. For all that it was worth (and to her it was worth quite a bit) he had listened and offered to, at least, bring it up with his alpha. That meant more to the viking queen than she was ever willing to say. “That is all I came to ask,” Gyda drew and took a soft breath. “I should return to my people.” Small and unofficial though they were for the moment. She turned without another word then and headed back towards the heart of Stavanger Bay needing to say her goodbye one last time.

<3 no problem!  haha I almost hope someone goes for it, the beautiful drama that would make :0

She was grateful for his words, seeming to accept them in place of the promise she'd sought.  He could have said for sure that they would leave the spot alone, but was careful now of the authority that he spoke with.  He was no longer king after all.  It was Lasher's place to command and Dante's place to advise, when necessary, and enforce if need be.  He would be sure to deliver the words when next he saw the alpha.

That was all she wanted, and Dante watched gratefully as she turned and left.  He would need to be sure to mention her abandoned intentions as well... minds could change like the weather, and he would watch the Bay closely from here on out.  He didn't trust that she'd let the matter go entirely and not being prepared wasn't in his nature.  Even if it was a pointless task, he would ensure that their claim remained uncontested.