Moonspear like the legends of the phoenix, all ends with beginnings

Hydra continued her ministrations, giving him a proper grooming. By the time she was finished with her work, the sun had shifted its position in the sky. Hydra looked him over and smiled. All better, she hummed, and appreciated her handiwork. He was handsome either way, but now he had... some sort of sheen to him. It was something that more likely than not she mentally fashioned, but she felt accomplished for it.

The Beta moseyed closer to him, inviting him to try his hand at it. He, blessedly (perhaps more for her than him), would have less knots and the like to deal with as her grooming was something she took care of regularly (each of her sisters were certain to perpetually look their Sunday best). She looked forward to the process—it was a primal, instinctual thing that Hydra favored.