Had she had her way, the Queen of Glaciem would have loved more than anything to be completely alone at such a horrible, painful moment in her life. But alas, she very rarely got her way, and the scent of not one - but two others drifted toward her. She breathed a sigh, continuing her fervent massaging of her singed limb with her tongue. In the dark she could hardly assess it properly, but it looked as if blisters were already forming where the fur had been burned away. Oh damn this underground pit of hell. The two approached her, one at the head, the other standing at the ready. She ceased her licking and stiffened, lips drawing up to reveal her fangs. She was in no mood to be trifled with. The scent of Valhalla filled the air and she knew at once who the woman was. Erani, the Queen of the reformed Valhalla. She was ordered, or rather 'suggested' to stay put, and the right half of her upper lip would twitch involuntarily. Still, she knew enough of this woman to know that she could possibly help the situation if she didn't first make it worse. "I can hardly go anywhere," came the ever so slightly begrudging tone. Did Erani really think it necessary to order her around? "Stay away from the river," she noted with sincere concern. Even if she were injured it didn't mean someone else had to suffer the same fate. Besides, what good was a healer if she were disintegrated?
