Moonspear a crown of red, king humming bird

As he moved toward her, Hydra's head tilted left and right (not unlike a bird), her ears pricked and leaning ever forward. And then, after looking over her shoulder a moment to confirm her mother was not on the way back, she moved to lay alongside her new siblings. Her attention, though, was for the one who moseyed clumsily over to her. She squinted judgmentally at him, and peered at the other siblings. She nosed the two girls in a doting manner and then gazed at the silver boy before her attentions fell back to the boy who was, slowly, making headway toward her.

Hydra, a little cruelly, reached out a foreleg to push him further away from her. She knew nothing at all about kids (in fact, if anything, she detested them), but with the previous litter being a little disappointing she yearned for, well, more. Jarilo, the boy, was the only one Hydra felt anything for—but she had an affinity toward those of her complexion. It was her own little test, this gentle push. How was his determination? His resolve?

Nevermind the fact that he was hardly an age at all to know up from down.