Qeya River Those who are about to die will say anything.

The Qeya river extended eastward, or in her case westward, spanning the landscape between the eastern territory and the adjacent mountains of the westlands like a great ribbon. It was known to her people; not by any particular name, but more as a boundary marker. One of many. She knew not to cross it - had been conditioned to avoid it - yet she was pulled along the river's bank regardless of the warning. There was nothing stopping the warrior woman from breaking that law now for it no longer applied, and she was hardly inclined to adhere to the rules of the hedda which had cast her aside. After an insignificant internal struggle the pale wolf sought passage across the river - stepping upon the smooth stones with precision and care, until she was on the opposite bank and looking up towards the foreign mountain; there was at least a days march ahead of her, and no time to dawdle.

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She’d chosen the spot high on the mountain, overlooking a rocky descent that leaves a sinking feeling in your chest when standing on the edge. She can see over the valley and, on the tip of her horizon, the river. It offers a barrier against the maplewood wolves and she’s yet to see any of them even dare to get close. Whether her own has gone below, she’s unsure, but since she’s spent time watching the world that belongs to her, she’s yet to see anyone cross it. 

From where she stands, looking at her mountain in the distance, she cannot see the spot she’s chosen as her own. A place that looks so insignificant from where she wants, a completely alternate feeling so far away. 

Thuringwethil holds onto it, turning her head and talking to the bank. Even if Sleeping Dragon cannot cross the river, they still benefit from it. Goliath hunts the fish that swim in the portions not yet frozen for the winter, filling their caches and the dark leader still drinks. Her attention is taken away once she’s lifts her head and cleans the cool water with her tongue. Heda arches her tail quickly over her spine, moving away from the frozen bank to give her feet something steadier to stand on.

It was strange to be alone. The wilderness was not so odd to her, having spent many days scouting different landscapes and reporting back like a loyal dog; she had seen mountains before, passed through great swelling forests, and slipped unseen through enough meadows. The ocean's edge was nothing new to her either, as most of Azhoum had been laden with salt. The snow had been her playground, but the rest - the rest had been exciting. The strangeness came upon remembering that there were no gona alongside her. Radova, once surrounded by a squad of brothers-at-arms (some close to her because of shared blood, others because of a shared trust, each warrior valued for their abilities), now she was venturing over the boundary set by her people. There was no one to aid her should trouble arise. No one to watch her back. The pale woman knew how to travel without being seen, but as she slipped along the river side, she quickly realized that the forest had many eyes - and they were directed solely upon her. Upon halting, Radova paused to listen and to observe.

The other wolf straightens up once she crosses the river and Thuringwethil scrutinizes the way she moves. She can see the faint line of pink across the right side of her face against the light fur and snowy backdrop. A shift in fur pattern, or a scar, but she hesitates conclusion. When the wind shifts the wolf’s scent, it doesn’t mingle with those of others but weeks alone could erase any sign roots left dangling from their legs. Heda moves, easy steps through the snow to close the distance between the other she wolf and herself. 

It was brighter here than in the north. There, the sun was pale - everything was pale. The vibrancy of each blade of grass, twisting branch, and even the sky, was almost too much for the warrior to bear. She could see no dangers lurking among the colors and the light; but then, there was a darkness. It slipped between the trees and caught her eye, then was gone once more. The fur of the gona's spine raised. Her tail lashed, and she bowed before meeting the oncoming stranger. Radova did not bow to honor the force that came drifting near, but to protect herself; she was a warrior, and could recognize the same burden in others. 

There was a difference in the dark wolf that approached her, though. A raised tail, a commanding air like that of a heda - but there was no mention of a clan this far to the west. Perhaps the mountain was taboo because of this clan? Making the riverside a dangerous border, and the surrounding lands their hunting grounds. It did not take much for Radova to size-up the figure which approached, and she was firmly set on the defensive.

The stranger notices Thuringwethil and with smooth movements that appear trained, slips into a defensive all at once making herself look bigger. Steel-colored eyes narrow but she doesn’t take any measures to continue forward. Heda leaves the space between them. She tilts her nose upward in an attempt to ease the other. She has no desire to shed blood on the snowy backyard of her home. Her own posture remains, however, eyes heavy down the slope of her nose on the loner’s features.

They are at an impasse. Radova does not wish to flee, but she is not inclined to be confrontational either. The other wolf appears to be comfortable right where they are as well, growing bolder as time progressed. She did not make a move either, leaving a straining silence between them, one which grew stale quickly. It was not Radova's nature to remain stoic and silent for long; she soon began to shift her weight, to stagger around the dark woman as if to study her, but in reality she was only keeping her muscles warmed.

The woman's scent was... Familiar. Something she had not scented in many days, but brought Radova back to Azgeda instantly. It was the scent of a warrior - a myth to her - but one she had been taught thoroughly. Breathing a deep breath (to clear her mind, or to gather more information) she set her pale eyes upon the face of the woman, and spoke, "Yu laik kwin hir?" While her tone was dull, her expression was almost challenging.

It takes a moment but the other lifts though she doesn’t stay in one spot for long. Thuringwethil turns her head, slowly following the way the other moves. She only breaks her gaze when she has to turn to prevent the other from getting behind her. The other being a threat seems unlikely, even if the way she moves seems familiar in a pattern of a formation she’d seen once. 

The words of a foreign tongue to these lands, Thuringwethil’s lips lift and she bares her teeth. “Heda,” she hisses a correction while a growl forms deep in her chest. “Chon yu bilaik?” Her wolves that showed up at her doorstep had caused her enough unease, and a face unknown to her using her own words in a land foreign to the both of them did not leave her settling well.

Ah, the stab in the dark had been successful. This was a wolf of the clans - but which clan? She spied no scars, so that ruled out Azgeda; that was obvious enough to Radova even without the physical marker. She knew of all the beasts in Azhoum. Trigeda then? Dark coat, thin frame, there wasn't much to differentiate a wolf of the trees from any other. There was talk of other clans as well, but Radova had not encountered many. This woman spoke in her people's tongue, but lived in the mountain - and from what Radova knew, she had always been taught to avoid the mountains.

"Maun-geda?" She mused, voice still soft despite the intensity of her gaze. It did not waver even after witnessing a flash of teeth. She licked her lips. "Radova gon Az-geda -" Lifting her pale face, pride was evident there. "- once." She slipped back to the language of the warriors, and relaxed her posture as she spoke that one word. She was alone now.

Maungeda?

Thuringwethil’s nose tips back upward as the word crosses her ears. It had crossed her mind when taking the mountain but the volcano’s name remained. However, Drageda remains on the tip of her thoughts for the familiarity of home, encompassing her new world and old.

“Azgeda,” she growls, rocking forward into a step as a sudden flash of anger crosses in front of her. The icy home had been difficult to communicate with, north east of her own home, and their brutal ways were harder to wrangle into a coalition. It had fallen short and Thuringwethil hadn’t forgotten, slaying the last Azhoum ambassador when she left her home. “Thuringwethil kom Drageda.”

She tightens her jaws, taking another step to close the distance. Not showing up for the summit had put new tensions between her home and the icy nation, tucked away once Seageda had been dissolved. Why an ice-wolf had come so far south west, she’s uncertain, but she remains steady at the new threat nearby. 

“kom Seageda.”

The woman's reaction made the fur of Radova's spine spike again, her tail lashed, and she side-stepped in case there was a true retaliation to her words. But the dark woman was only briefly enlivened. The more she spoke, the more agitated both of them became.

While no recognition spanned her features upon hearing the word Drageda, her jaw tightened at the mention of the sea clan. Her body resumed its defensive posturing, this time with a wide step back from the so-called heda. "You were at the peace talks." If she was the leader of Seageda at the time, that meant - "It was your fault that I lost them all." Her kin. Her brothers, the warriors, the protection of her own heda - and now here they were.

"They told me Seageda wanted an alliance. I knew not to trust that." Her fangs bared, and she made a brisk lunge towards the dark wolf, but did not attack. There was no point in wasting her energy, even for revenge. "Your coalition was a trap."

Radova shifts her weight whens he speaks and her eyes narrow, her words contradicting what she knew to be true. The gathering of the clans had been incomplete without Azgeda’s presence and her own scouts had come up empty handed when searching. The answer she feels is reflected back, blame shifting to her and her attempt at an alliance between those of her neighbors. The strength of the clans behind her gave her an advantage and she doubts they’d follow her still without her own clan to back her up anymore. Her own wolves now were nothing more than a rag-tag collection.

“What are you saying?” she demands, taking a step closer. Her steps are met with resistance but her hair has bristled, menacing upon her shoulders. “An ambassador from Azgeda did not show up to the summit. You have no right to blame me for whatever you lost.”

No, this was too much. The fact that the dark wolf would not even admit to the plot against her people - Radova's anger flared, she snapped her teeth before the wolf, purposefully missing the woman's skin, but only just. "I did nothing wrong. The ambassador - the warriors, my brothers, - were attacked. You ordered the hit." Her teeth were unsheathed now, bared with no abatement, and she began to pace before the dark woman. "We were on our way and... We were intercepted."

Suddenly, the anger ebbed from her system. Or rather, it was more like the energy waned. Dissolved from her. The snow wolf sank to her haunches and breathed a deep, agitated, painful breath. "They're gone. When I returned to Azgeda, I was blamed and cast out." She leveled her gaze upon Thuringwethil once more, and this time was unable to resist the hatred that brewed there.

The only hint of confusion that crosses Thuringwethil’s face is the slight bury of her brows as the other speaks, having seen teeth in her direction a moment prior. She snarls and keeps her own launch from propelling forward, knocking the wolf into the snow—she starts to lose her trail of conversation, falling back onto her haunches. Her shoulders slump and the dark woman remains still, listening as she fumbles over the last few words of her accusation.

“I ordered no hit on your wolves.”

The wolf could be lying to her but overwhelmed with the sudden information, she doubts her frustrations are for show. If a hit had been ordered, unknown to her, she had to believe somewhere in the string of her leaders and advisors. The same wolves that caused her to dissolve her home but none had been missing from the summit that night.  Thuringwethil takes a breath, a step back, and lets her spine relax and smooth her fur back down.

“Seageda is no more because of corruption. If I had to guess, it has something to do with what happened.”

Radova had no reason to believe her, Thuringwethil had no reason to believe Radova, but so far from either of their homes, what is the point of lying?

The fire in her eyes dies out, and she regards the other woman with a cool indifference - a sudden and abrupt detachment. Her pain over the loss of her brothers was still fresh, but it was not the way of her people to dwell. She would work it out on her own time, and not in the company of this woman who wasn't worthy of her trust.

The fact that Seageda fell did not surprise her. They had need of the Azgeda warriors, after all, and had not received that aid. They had not deserved it.

"Fine." No, she did not trust her, but there was no use fighting. "But my brothers are dead. My clan has abandoned me. If not because of you, then who?" She rose again, but less aggressive. Tired, perhaps. "I must have vengeance. It is my right."

Radova stands quickly while she speaks and Thuringwethil watches, leaning back as she felt no reason to continue closing the distance. The other goes through a new set of emotions with information that contradicted her own and the dark leader felt something similar. The wolves responsible for corrupting those as close as they could get, ordering a hit on the Azgeda ambassador, and framing them. 

The ice wolves, if Radova spoke the truth, blamed the wolf that stands before her. Their relationship to Seageda meant more than the female, even if it hadn’t been her fault. She exhales a long breath, shaking her head. Radova demanded revenge and Thuringwethil isn’t sure she can give it to her. She doesn’t house the wolves that could have done it.

“What will you do, then?”

What next.

This was an important question. Something that had no answer yet. She could linger here on the outskirts, make a name for herself - her own clan, maybe - and try to move on. She could ignore the need for companionship and simply live a rogue lifestyle, hell-bent on finding those that wronged her. There were many avenues which Radova's path could travel, but none that seemed right.

And here before her, a woman of fortitude. Someone she distrusted on behalf of her brothers' lost spirits, but felt vague connections to - they were of the same people, in a way. Having lost her home in Azgeda, it would be foolish to let this opportunity slip from her grasp. Even if Radova's natural state was to distrust those not of the ice-born, she was no longer Azgeda herself. The woman had lost that connection when she had lost her brothers.

The woman breathed a deep sigh of her own. Her breath, billowing like a plume of smoke from the snout of a dragon, mixed with that of Thuringwethil.

"I will wait." For Thuringwethil to turn her back, show her true colors - or for those loyal to the woman to show themselves. She does not trust the heda or her claims. There is nothing to prove that this dark woman spoke truth; she could have been trying to manipulate, as was the Seageda way. "If your wolves of Seageda return to you, they will meet my teeth."

The woman threatens the wolves she does not have official reign over. Most, she suspects, ran to their allies, and the others were dead or celebrating what they’d accomplished. Seageda had no part in what happened, as far as she knew, and no loyal Seageda would would have done such a thing against her word. They were welcome Azhoum into Thuringwethil’s coalition; a brutal, harsh nation and their peace would set the precedent. Not showing up had been a sign, a threat, and she wanted no more to do with them. To find out they’d been on their way, well, she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do about it now.

“The wolves of Seageda had nothing to do with it,” she reiterates. “Those unfaithful that claim Seageda are nothing to me,” she adds. The wolves that help grow the corruption within her ranks, the destroy the coalition brought together. Wolves from other clans, putting bugs in ears of wolves already wary of her reign. 

Taking in Eli had been a risk but the wolf would have died at her jaws, willingly, on her borders. Dedicated to the lie potentially fabricated against her, Thuringwethil had no real reason to distrust him. The others will be put to similar tests but now she has the threat of the ice-wolves on her tail. Even if they banned the female before her, they could come—if they were truly upset, if they believed she ordered the hit—and she’s at a loss with what to do with the woman that stands before her.

She had a point, but not one that Radova would openly concede. A true chief would have loyal followers, even if the clan dissolved. They would return to her - perhaps though, they were with her already. Anyone mindful enough to deceive two clans and set them on the path to war would be a difficult enemy. They would not linger long once their goal had been complete, and so Radova's anger towards this heda was of no consequence. This was something she would come to grips with eventually - as her heart must mend - but she was resistant.

There is a long silence between them. A lull while Radova makes sense of everything, processing as best she can. She is not mindless, but this entire situation has reopened wounds and left her with many different desires. When she finally speaks, her tone is hollow. "Then I don't know what to do." A moment of weakness, here, and now? Before a woman who Radova had once thought of as the enemy? She was still the enemy - but not a beast worth felling. There was nothing that Thuringwethil had which she wanted, not anymore. 

"Azgeda does not look for you." Unless the queen in the ice had changed her mind following Radova's banishment, but that was unlikely. "My banishment was enough to appease many." This was knowledge she did not have to spread. Yet Radova was forced to relocate and restart her life - just like Thuringwethil - so they were equals here. They were nothing.

Thuringwethil remains still in the silence that develops between them. Radova absorbs the information, putting it wherever she needs to make sense of it, and she notices the anger turn to kindling. Her misplaced emotions goes elsewhere but she begins to feel her own, rising in her chest and fire licking at her lungs. Had Seageda remained in one piece, Azgeda on their hides after what happened wouldn't have ended well. Their military had been superior, facing the harshness of snow. Radova had a strength built on ruthless survival that made her own ways look weakened.

The young leader lets the wolf have the time to herself, waiting to see what she would do. She doesn't lay out the red carpet leading to her pack but she doesn't reject the idea. However, should it not come to life from the other, an exiled ice-wolf around her borders causing havoc is the last thing she needs.

She has no more words for the heda, and there is nothing that Thuringwethil says in return; she seems to accept things as they are. Radova wishes to leave, as she has no further business here. Her hunger grows - a hunger for a proper meal instead of a bite of her enemies - and she suspects little hospitality from this woman. There is no trust between them. A kinship, perhaps, in a vague sense; something extended through a shared experience, a similar upbringing. They are of the same people even if those clans are separated by great hostility. Radova shifts, beginning her departure, but then stops. Her body rests in snow for a moment of lingering thought. 

"Goodbye, Thuringwethil kom Seageda," she does not know if she calls her by this old name for any reason - but it flows from her, a jab at what once was - and Radova begins to march through the snow once more. She makes a mental note to explore the riverside more thoroughly later, perhaps even venture close to this Drageda upon the mountain; but without anything to stop her, the winter wolf is keen on leaving.

The silence lingers thick between them and she watches the wheels turn Radova into her decision. For a moment, Thuringwethil expects her to leave without a word—she isn’t going to lay a red carpet down for the female into Drageda when she can barely trust the wolf that came up from Seageda. Azgeda had removed the woman from their ranks, cast aside because of her, but giving a home to someone she cannot trust isn’t exactly in her future.

Radova turns and casts her goodbye over her shoulder, dropping it on the ground between them as if it meant nothing. Thuringwethil clenches her jaws and swallows the lump in her throat, she struggles to keep her feet into place when closing the distance for blood coaxes her mind.

“Leidon, Radova,” she sneers, making her own turn to return to the pack lands.