Firefly Glen wild things

@Atshen

 

With the recent occurences that had transpired at Moonspear, Hydra felt she ought not to leave... but she also wondered about the wolf that had fled Moonspears border, and with that thought came her pondering on if the amputated wolf and the runaway wolf were related. Hydra did not travel very far from Moonspear, but sniffed around to suss out if there was any familiar scent here.

Despite his injuries, Atshen found himself a ways from his sheltered home. Despite the period of downtime he had fallen victim to, he had also found himself restless to get out of the familiar sights of the forest. Even with his devotion to those who dwelled in the shadows, Atshen had found himself needing to get away like he had in the time that he scouted for the wolves of Teaghlaigh. 

Much to his nature, as he advanced through the wilderness, Atshen found himself oblivious to the other's presence despite the linger scent of the nearby mountain.

She prowled quietly, careful not to reveal her own location to any other (to the best of her ability) lest the near-trespasser did lurk around here. Hydra was no fool. Her experience was minimum at best, even despite her mother and fathers consistent training—she had never gotten into a fight, with a wolf who was truly out for blood. She had been warned that such a being who sought this existed, though she found it strange as Hydra was a wolf who did things out of necessity, not excess (though in this, she could be hypocritical; Hydra was prone to getting carried away in violent situations). There was no scent of that being, but there was another scent Hydra caught, distinctly wolf. Her eyes scoured her surroundings to see if she could catch more than just wind of them, looking for the figure she scented upon the wind.

The beaten trail had lead the Silencer far from his woods and into unfamilar lands. He slithered through them with little care, as the territory did not bear the interesting landmarks as the ones that stood before it. Despite this, Atshen soon realized, there was something different about this territory. It had been long since Atshen had crossed paths with a stranger and the sudden wave of the mountain-side wolf caught his attention. Looking about the barren lands, Atshen paused in an attempt to seek the other out, not finding her instantly.

There he was. The scent did not match that of the wolf she was after, and her tail swayed behind her as she eyed him. Hydra moved in his direction tentatively, unsure of if the male even wanted company. Hydra herself was after a spar, and since he was the only one here she'd make an offer if he seemed receptive to her presence. If not, no harm no foul—she'd just return home.

The other came from the shadows, and Atshen's attention was diverted almost instantly as she sauntered onto the scene. Pulling himself to full height, the raven-haired man looked at the woman curiously. Noting her advanced, and how dominantly she held herself, he pushed his ears forward, looking to her and pressed forward bluntly, as if asserting himself in this situation. Atshen would do his best to make sure that his pride would not be overtaken by a woman that he didn't know. Pacing with still a distance, Atshen then lingered, staring her down in an attempt to intimidate her.

He was tall. Hydra noted how he held himself, now. As though he felt challenged by her. Hydra had always put men and women in two different hierarchial tiers. Her mother was her fathers equal, for example. Two wolves meant to be on top. And Hydra saw herself as a wolf that was ultimately meant to be on top—or, as close to the top as one could become. Hydra did not seek to usurp her mother and father, after all. No, she respected them completely. So Hydra was given pause as she stared at this male in turn, ceasing in her approach as she watched him. Her own proud posture did not change all the while, and she maintained her stoic demeanor.

Unlike Hydra, Atshen was a wolf that lusted after the heat of an altercation. Most times that he found himself tangled with another it was an instance that Atshen had pushed forward with his brash demeanor, chasing the feeling that he felt when clashing with another. Such desires found him as he looked upon the shadow before him, catching her stance with sharp eyes. To him, it seemed as though she were open to a challenge and Atshen would not deny her that. No, he'd raise to the occasion and initiate a spar. 

A roar rang suddenly from the depths of his breast as he surged forward as he quickly cleared the distance between them.

Hydra watched him run toward her. She did not know it, as she had never seen one before, but he moved like a bear. And as she kicked her own heels into movement, Hydra ran toward him, too—but when their distance seemed to close Hydra rounded him swiftly, keeping her distance from him. One thing she knew for certain was that she did not want him to catch her. It seemed he wanted to fight, and Hydra decided she would only work at tiring him out—she wanted to see how effective this would be, and as evading attacks was at present her forte she hoped it would not be too difficult a thing. For the moment she remained out of his reach.

It was as if Hydra and Atshen were jousting; charging headfirst towards one another in an attempt to bring the other down. At least, that was what Atshen had intended when he had surged forward. Hydra, on the other hand, had some tricks up her sleeve that the Silencer had not anticipated. Hydra barely grazed past him, maneuvering herself so that she missed any impact that she would have endured had they collided. 

Both dumbfounded and impressed, Atshen halted suddenly in an attempt to recollect himself and launch his counter. The velocity in which Atshen stamped his paws until the ground and weight that he held did not create favorable conditions for the embar-eyed man. In his attempt to ground himself, the Silencer felt the weight of his chest cause him to lean forward enough to lose his balance and crash forward with his forelimbs tucked upon his undercarriage. 

Unlike others in his situation, Atshen felt no shame in his wipeout. Rage took the spot of any humility that may have crossed his mind and drove him back onto his paws and in the direction of Hydra, resuming the chase now that the unexpected intermission was out of the way.

He had fallen, but he rose quickly enough. Still he lumbered toward her again, with a vengeance it seemed... but his pace was not one she could not outrun. He was a bear, and though she was sure his fangs and his weight would hurt, they wouldn't if he could not catch her. Hydra waited until he was relatively near, remaining stock still until then, before she bolted in his direction. In contrast, her movement was swift and rapidfire, an arrow loosed from its quiver, as she dashed past him, keeping the space between them enough that even her own brandished fangs that snapped at the air between them would hit nothing but the wind between them. She whipped around and growled playfully, her eyes flashing, but should his path be able to redirect Hydra would move again to keep out of his grip.

Atshen was unaware of just what Hydra was doing. Even with the power he had used to drive his responsive charge, the Silencer found himself just short of landing a hit again as he lunged his muzzle when she ran alongside him. Frustration was quickly accumulating within the depths of his chest, and such emotions were evident in his eyes as he also whipped around to face her again. Anger met playfulness as the two wolves faced each other and soon enough, with a snarl rippling along the line of his mouth, Atshen charged once more, disregarding logic as he continued to not learn from his prior mistakes.

He charged again, and Hydra evaded. Hydra wanted to tire him out well and good before she thought to draw near him. She could tell he was not too bright, and that his mounting frustrations might blind him into aggression. The best course of action, she felt, was to run his endurance well dry. On that front Hydra was near-limitless. She and her sisters were inexhaustible, chasing one another up and down the mountain, or hunting Korei for sport. Only when he showed clear signs of lagging would Hydra test the waters—she was interested in doing so, for the sake of learning, though if he tired of this and her she would not feel sorry for her actions in the slightest.

Unlike Hydra, Atshen was not an individual crafted for endurance. He had only experienced intense cardiovascular outbursts in spurts-- never for the long run like Hydra. By the time that they had passed each other for the fourth times, Atshen was showing signs of slowing. His sides heaved, and his tongue lolled as he glared at the wolf from Moonspear. Even with his exhaustion, Atshen was hell-bent on bringing her down. This time when he lumbered off towards her, his pace noticably slower as he attempted to get to her.

He definitely was getting tired, but still was nowhere near tired enough. Hydra wanted him so tired that the clumsy male would become even clumsier. He came the closest he had to touching her before she sprinted, again, out of his line of fire, looking toward him with perked ears and sharp eyes. Hydra wanted the hope to inspire with him his last wind, and then to have that wind fall out of his sails. And maybe he would let her alone then, or maybe she would move closer to him to attempt to land a blow herself. Hydra was not so confident in herself to want to do this then and there, but it was something she pondered. He seemed out for blood, though—there was far more risk than there was reward.

Having had Hydra just out of his grasp, Atshen felt his frustration peak; precisely what the woman had intended. The sound that erupted from Atshen's mouth the glutteral; a forthcoming of the Silencer's frustration as he pushed to spill her blood. Strong forelegs churned as Atshen set off in Hydra's direction, this eyes burning with his innermost desires at that moment, and his attention honed in on Hydra. He would do everything in this last push to draw blood and was certain, despite his previous failures, he would accomplish his goal.

Hydra surged forward again. He would not touch her, not if she had anything to do with it—but she had not payed careful attention to the earth, and a dip within it caused her stride to be butchered. The stumble was enough to alter her movement and momentum enough to give him what he wanted—though perhaps not as much as he wanted—his fangs caught her, though did not maintain a grip. They tore at the flesh on her shoulder in a superficial manner that still hurt and Hydra moved to (attempt to) retaliate with pinching fangs that would, hopefully, inspire him to retreat for a moment so she could carry on forward and out of reach again. Hydra snarled, but kept moving—the wound burned, and Hydra wanted to get one of her own in before leaving... though she did not desire to get near to him again to risk another perhaps more serious injury. He, clearly, was out for blood.

Finally, Atshen got the break that he had been hoping for. Even though he was not able to hold on, Atshen had got what he had wanted: a hit. With the taste of blood fresh in his mouth, Atshen surged forward with a new confidence in pursuit of her. This movement caused her fangs to be upon him briefly, but Atshen did not flinch. He was all too used to the burning sensation that biting brought about and Hydra's grip was no different as the others who had inflicted damage upon him. His muscles rippled underneath his inky coast as his paws hit heavily upon the earth, gaining distance with his every stride. Despite his winded breath, Atshen pressed on with all of his might, feeling suddenly rejuvenated by the blow he had landed. If he were able to get close enough, he'd strike forward again, and this time he'd attempt to bring her to the ground.

Hydra, too, was rejuvenated—her inexhaustion seemed to become tenfold. As he surged after her, Hydra's limbs went in overdrive to create distance between them. Again as he sought to close it, Hydra burst past him with enough distance that his fangs would not be able to reach her. Hydra's plume lashed behind her. He seemed to not even mind the pain, if he felt it at all, she had attempted to administer to him. Hydra licked her chops, watchful and—any time he did come within reach of her—dancing away from his touch. This she was more adept at, and she herself learned rather quickly she did not want to return to his grip again... not even to attempt to gain some holds of her own. If she did not tire him out first, he would overwhelm her with weight. Fortunately, her own stamina and endurance was not in short stock.

Atshen and Hydra movements were but an intricate waltz; their steps fluid as they moved to react to the others movement. Growing tired quickly, Atshen disturbed their deadly dance to distance himself as he found himself too winded to continue. Saliva pooled in the edges of his mouth, and his tongue lolled-- the indications coupled with his exhaustion that told him in was time to retreat. With this realization, he back peddled as she dodged his last attempt. Once he placed himself a comfortable distance away, he planted himself with stiff legs. Though his exhaustion was evident, there was still a fire that burned in his eyes.

For the first time in this whole event, the male retreated, tongue lolling and saliva pooling from the edges of his lips. It was a clear sign that he was tired, and though Hydra's own sides inflated and deflated with deep draughts of breath she was not winded as he was. The opportunist in her dared her to try her hand at striking now, but the logical side of her told her to take this opportunity for what it was: the safest way out. Hydra remained where she was and watched as he turned and looked at her—despite logic prevailing, the fire within her eyes matched his own. Blue flames licked around the edges of her pupil, and her stance remained proud. After all, she had not backed away from this. Neither of them had lost this battle. She respected his strength, and perhaps he might respect her swiftness.

Truth be told, Atshen was tired of the back and forth. Despite his instinct, which willed him forward to rip the other woman to shreds, he remained where he was and stared in her general direction. Their duel had been one which had tested the dark-furred Silencer tremendously, and though he did not share her exact sentiments, Atshen acknowledged her craft. 

With their intermission, Atshen could feel himself slowly regaining his stamina. But even with this sense, Atshen did not move forward. Their battle had come to a clean closer, and though he had not won, he found himself oddly satisfied with the outcome. Not questioning how he felt, as he was also growing more indifferent to the situation by the moment, he called it a draw with a subtle lift of his chin. With this, as he did not care whether or not she had acknowledged him or not, Atshen suddenly turned tail on her to slip back into the shadows, leaving the warrior of Moonspear to her own devices.

Hydra mirrored him perfectly—for this, too, was a part of her craft—and then watched him go to depart. Only when he was well out of sight, and she could no longer hear his weight bearing down on the earth, did Hydra glance at her injury. Deciding she had best get it cleaned and deal with this before hunting, Hydra moved and trotted back in the direction of Moonspear, satisfied with her days findings.