A few days had passed since Rian departed Neverwinter Forest to get
away from everyone. No sooner had he begun to enterain the thought of trusting Kjalarr, the pale northman stepped down and elevated his wench of a
wife in his place. She had
zero blood ties to Neverwinter, and hadn't even known Scimitar, Eshe, or his father. What right did she have to rule in place of Cypress, or even his own mother. Indeed, why hadn't his mother stepped up once more in Kjalarr's stead. Rian felt as if his entire world, the ground upon which he stood, was constantly crumbling away. Soon he would have nothing to stand upon, and the void would consume him.
He feared the nothingness.
The O'Malley boy wandered the reaches to the south of Neverwinter, never straying too far from his home, but not close enough to be easily found by those he called pack members. A large part of him didn't want to be found. Perhaps out here he would find the life he wished he had, and the respect of those he called leaders. He stood upon the frozen shores of Big Salmon Lake, jade eyes cast out across the expanse. They were glazed over and his entire demeanor suggested a deep-seeded lethargy that had nothing to do with the season.
Rian took a hesitant step out onto the lake and when it did not give beneath his weight he brought the other out ahead. Slowly he crept upon the ice, but it did not groan under the pressure—the only sound was the light crunch of snow underfoot, and the distant cry of a raven.
Floki had departed them, and though Charon and Aria had sought him out Hydra sought to make a last ditch effort to find him. Hydra was no scout—she was a protector, a guardian. But Hydra had always enjoyed Floki and his patience for her, as well as his neverending tolerance for her abuses. Hydra was older, now, and though she had matured quite a bit from the cub she was, Hydra could not forget her fathers (seemingly) favorite companion.
She hated to leave Moonspear. And the further away she drifted from her pack, the stronger her desire to return was. Alya and Lyra both knew of her intent, and though normally Hydra would invite them along with her she did not wish to endanger them. But Hydra felt terribly unbalanced without them on either side of her, and her unease was apparent.
Hydra had not caught a single lick of evidence that he had been around here. He had been gone for some time, but there was a part of her that hoped to find... something. As she pushed through a thin forest, there came a clearing and a frozen lake. In the distance there was a sharply cut figure, swarthy and dark and easy to spot amidst all the white surrounding them. She realized that she, too, was a sore thumb. For the moment, she stood there awkwardly. She was terribly out of her element and comfort zone, and painfully aware of it.
Rian sensed something amiss when the birdsong suddenly ceased and the base of his skull began to tingle with something beyond the normal five senses. His front paws slipped a bit when he turned, but he quickly flexed his nubby claws into the snow and stopped himself from falling. Over on the bank, not far at all, was a dark shape—stark black against the pristine white of the snow. He slowly raised his head to get a better look at them, and his ears slowly twisted forward, one after the other.
The wind billowed softly across his back and towards the other wolf—the wind was not in his favor, but he didn't think the stranger meant any harm. He nosed the air a final time. This wasn't a Neverwinter wolf. At least, not one he'd ever seen before. He took a trembling step forward aware, for the first time, that he was actually somewhat afraid. He was young and he was alone, but judging from the cut of her sillouette, so was she.
She looked to her right, until she felt the weight of his gaze upon her. Then Hydra turned her face back toward him, noting his course and more importantly that he had moved toward her. Hydra, too, was afraid—though as to why, she was uncertain. Hydra had never endured the evils of the world, and lived a good and safe life upon Moonspear. Floki was the first true wolf in her life that could be considered a significant loss, but was he gone? Hydra did not know how to think it so. Not knowing death, she could not form the thought or even the idea. She could only wonder.
Hydra was keenly aware of the absence of her sisters, though. Her left and right. The halves that made her whole. Who she was without them was not yet known to Hydra. She struggled to find some semblance of self, but could grip nothing. Her breath formed small clouds around her nostrils, and her plume lashed behind her. She stood there, appearing self-assured, though her ears flicked atop her head. Hydra, unused to company unless it belonged to a wolf within her fathers ranks, was uncertain as to what to do. She protected nothing on these free lands, and so had no need to behave in an aggressive manner as was her typical nature. Not territorial over this scrap of land, Hydra determined that more than anything else, even over her uncertainty and the measure of fear it brought her, she was curious. And so she, too, darted some odd steps forward, her ears pricked atop her crown.
Rian saw the trepidation that plagued her was of a similar nature to the one stopping him from racing over and introducing himself. He was not an outgoing creature by nature. Maybe in a universe where his family hadn't been killed, vanished, or otherwise left him he would be. But the forces that be were not kind to the young O'Malley boy, so he did his best with the cards he'd been dealt so far. But the girl—the dusky teen with the same gangling bearing as his own, called to him in a way he could not fathom. It was the unknown, not the void, that beckoned him now.
When she took a few steps forward he waved his tail in a few lazy sweeps and mimicked the motion, skipping forward a few lengths only to stop and judge her reaction once again. It was as if he feared she might fly away and flee back into the woods—that the mystery would never be solved. Rian, above all else, wanted to know. It prevailed, even over his depression. Knowing, experiencing, and understanding.
A burst of energy took him and he bounded over the snow-covered lake with his tail strung out behind him, and his movements spirited. He stopped short of her by about a dozen yards and lowered his head to sniff idly at the snow, while his eyes remained transfixed on her. He was utterly fascinated.
His body language was inviting and encouraging. This she could read, and her tense form seemed to grow relaxed. Hydra had never been taught to be cautious, though in meeting new wolves she was more like her mother than she was her father. Where in all other planes Hydra was confident and bold, this was new. She stopped abruptly as he bounded in her direction, snow flinging about as he did so. Her ears cupped backward and she tilted her head, her sharp features expressing her wonderment. But it appeared his energy was contagious, and Hydra let her forelimbs slide forward some before they slapped roughly against the earth. She broke the quiet tranquility around them, loosing a sharp bark as she, too, rose and made a rapid burst forward, pausing immediately alongside him.
He was taller than she was, she noted. Larger, too. She was svelte and slight, and his masculinity was an utter contrast to her feminity. She was rigid again beside him, but this time it was not out of nervousness but excitement of the game they had seemingly begun. She was in his reach, but as soon as he moved toward her Hydra would (attempt to) dart away from his clutches.
Their dance was awkward and unrefined. He knew little of the ways of friendship or even how to greet strangers. His mother always cautioned him against wandering the borders alone. But now he was here, far beyond her reach, and it was up to him alone to make it or break it. She seemed receptive to him; her neutral interest was suddenly broken by a dip into a bow, and she slapped the ground with her paws only to surge forward and further close the gap between them.
He extended his neck and reached out when she drew close—his tail twitched, and his ears trembled atop his head. Rian's gaze betrayed the anxiety lingering beneath his obvious curiousity. The barest tremor was evident in the corded muscle lashed across his shoulder, and the barest hint of white appeared at the edges of his jade eyes. He inched his nose closer, and closer, but she suddenly darted away again like a sprite flitting amongst the shadows.
Rian startled and drew away, craining his neck high and lending her a look of confusion and suspicion. The coltish boy lowered his head again and repeated the previous motion of sniffing at the prints she left behind, while remaining fixated on her. His ears slicked back and he whined softly, unable to find words for the unusual emotions he felt.
Watching him, Hydra sensed his anxiety was equal, perhaps greater, than her own. She shifted her weight and turned toward him again, uncertain and unsure again as he had not made to chase her—she lowered her head some, wondering if she had done something wrong. Hydra was terribly out of her element, and she wondered what Alya had done to not feel that way. Hydra was meant to be bold, brave. But in his company she felt... shy, and curious. Hydra could hardly look at him.
But when she did she noted the expression of suspicion, confusion. As he sniffed her prints and whined, Hydra's ears fell flat atop her head. Again, she averted her eyes. Sorry,
she expressed, I... don't know what I'm doing,
she admitted, averting her eyes. I've never met anyone outside of Moonspear before!
It was exciting, but also nervewracking.
And then she looked back to him.
This, before her, was a boy. What if this was Cypress? Alya's Cypress? Hydra tried to remember what Alya had said he'd looked like... but she couldn't remember. She lifted her head back to its former station, one ear rotating to the left as a pile of snow fell from tree to earth with a quiet thud. The birdsong had resumed again, but the worlds quiet was a muffled one with the snows. Cypress had been dark, and this male before her was also dark... What color were his eyes? Contrasting with the hues upon his face were the most brilliant green Hydra had ever seen, and her tail waved. Uhm, I'm Hydra,
she introduced at last.
The base flutters of anxiety still quivered in his chest, rattling his heart, and causing his shoulders an unusual amount of tension. She was a stranger—this entire situation was new to him and, coupled with the fact that she seemed as nervous about it as he was, he was slowly warming to the idea of potentially making a new ally. Friendship was something almost foreign to him now. The tumultuous occurances of his later puppyhood abolished the fanciful ideals he'd once cherished, and he struggled to retain the barest shred of hope that one day things might be ok.
Maybe this was his chance to rediscover it.
She averted his eyes and he tensed, worried she might flee. But she held her ground, and even spoke, her young voice a compliment to his own dull tenor. "I..." he started, only to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. It felt parched. He licked his lips to wet them, tasting only the snow that had kissed his fur during his brief sprint. Moonspear. He blinked. "You're from Moonspear?" He repeated, stating the obvious (she'd just said so, after all).
Snow tumbled from a distant bough and he looked past her to watch as it cascaded through the air. The birdsong slowly returned as the predators were far enough from their nests. He returned his attention to her, the staccato motion awkward, like everything he'd done the last few moments. "I'm Rian, from Neverwinter." He replied with a tenative wave of his tail. He took another step forward and stretched his nose out to her, though the distance was far too vast to make any sort of contact. "I, uh... I used to think dragons lived up there." He admitted suddenly only to flush and look away, embarassed at the childish fantasy.
He started to speak, and her ears simultaneously swiveled forward and cupped, clinging to the single word. Subconsciously she mirrored his actions, licking her own chops. He spoke again, and the way he spoke was so wonderful and unlike anything she'd heard that she wished he would have asked her a dozen more questions. Yes, that mountain back there... you've heard of it?
it was behind him, now, and she, facing it, gestured lightly toward it as she spoke. It was a comfort to see it over the treetops; Moonspear loomed in the distance, but was further than it looked. Her eyes returned to him, somehow more curious than she had been to start with.
Hydra was charmed by him. By the silly notion that they were in this awkward moment together. The two of them embraced it as well as they could, but Hydra was not so good at it. Still, Hydra was the sort of girl who would never run away from anything. At least one thing was certain about her, and it was that she was a fighter... she was determined to fight through her uncertainty, to figure things out and see things through.
Rian was his name. Not Cypress. There was a strange sense of relief that flooded through her as he spoke his name, and she smiled without realizing it. As he stepped toward her, Hydra debated for a moment before doing the same. There was not that great of a distance between them, now, but she did this to show she wouldn't dart away this time if he wished to close the distance between them. Neverwinter rang no bells for her, as Alya hadn't told her where Cypress was from.
At his confession, she grinned. Oh, the dragons. My sisters and I have defeated them all, so that any visitors need not fear for their safety,
she informed him jokingly, her tail waving. The triplets were no ordinary princesses, and though they could act the part of damsel in distress in Alya's favorite game, Save the Princess, they were no damsels in distress. Least of all Hydra, who was often who the princess needed saving from. She looked to the mountain again, and asked, Is it... never winter, in your forest?
The name was pretty, combined, but she wondered if it was named literally.
A flutter tickled his gut when she took a step towards him to further close the gap once more. He twisted an ear back and pressed his lips together, only to lash his tongue across his jowls in an attempt to wet them. They were chapped from the cold, and he hadn't noticed until just now. The earthen boy nodded belatedly at her question but felt no need to continue that snippet of the conversation. The fantasies he'd dreamed up as a child were more than enough to satisfy his curiousities back then. Now, however, was another matter.
Rian sucked in a breath when she grinned, and his own neutral mug transformed into a shy smile that was all his own. It was a cute image, not handsome, but charming all the same. It changed the planes of his face, chased the shadows away—he practically beamed at her explaination, and even laughed. "Oh, that's, um, good." He replied with a glance to the mountain. The peak was a fortress that loomed over the lower valley, inspiring the young minds of those on the ground below. He was glad she, too, understood dragons.
Her question made him snort, and then widen his eyes when he realized how rude that was. Rian's gaze flashed back to her, then to the snow, then back up slowly. "No, it's always winter. The name sucks. S'miserable and cold all the time."He answered with a shake of his head.
His laugh caused any tension she had initially felt to fade as she loosed a stupidly girlish giggle—it was a sound she had never before produced, but a direct result of the way his laugh had made her feel. Rian's face seemed different, too, and the observant Hydra felt oddly warm. And as he spoke again, Hydra nodded. Hydra understood all sorts of magical beasts; they had a father who inspired their imagination, and Lyra and Alya were imaginative themselves. Hydra was the least creative of the three, but aware of the beasts they had fashioned by way of their explanations.
When Rian snorted, Hydra pursed her lips and looked away, feeling flushed. Frustrated more with herself and her question than him. She could think of nothing clever to bite back at him for making her feel silly, and now was perhaps the only time she did want to run away. Who knew a snort could make one feel so humiliated?
He did her the favor of responding, at least, and when he did she looked back to him. Though she felt all the more self-conscious, she mustered up the courage to ask, Y'don't like where you live?
That came as a surprise to her; Hydra adored her own home, though, and so could not imagine that anyone might not like where they had come from.
An acute feeling of panic rose in him when her expression shifted, and she seemed to retreat inward. It was almost like looking in a mirror—he didn't like the reflection he wore. Rian slicked his ears back and dipped his head further to illustrate a picture of apology. He knew better, he kept reminding himself, but somehow it just hadn't stuck yet in moments when it actually mattered. When she laughed, he felt a million times lighter, and the bottomless sorrow he felt was almost... tolerable. For the barest moment in time, Rian remembered what it felt like to be happy and young. Her face glowed like the sun when she laughed, and the sound itself was so innocent that Rian was inexplicably drawn in.
He twisted his mouth and pursed his lips, only to look down with a sigh. "Well," he started, swallowed, and fell silent for a second as he ruminated over what would be the best answer. In truth, he didn't really know how to feel about Neverwinter anymore. Whatever home was, that wasn't it at the moment. "Not anymore." He finished lamely as he swept his gaze back towards her own, seeking the cerulean depths for confirmation that he wasn't crazy.
Not anymore, he had said. Hydra took a ginger step forward, one ear twitching idly. Do you wanna talk about it?
She asked. Hydra didn't need to know, though she offered an open ear if he wished to speak of his hurts. It was a rare thing she offered him—at least, coming from her. Hydra was not the comforting sort, and in her life she had never wanted to be either. But his response seemed so genuine that she felt it prudent to ask.
Hydra offered him an out, too. Or if you'd rather, maybe we could go on a little adventure or something... I've never been here before,
she looked around him, not wanting to stare at him and make him feel awkward or that he had to do anything he did not want to do. Hydra, decidedly, did not want Rian to feel anything bad, at all.
Why was it that he always seemed to dump his problems on strangers, rather than talking it out with his own family? He knew it was not the most condusive thing to making friends and, more likely than not, it was helping to push those who could be close to him further and further away. It was vicious cycle, one that Rian had yet to realize was his own doing. But Hydra didn't leave. She claimed a hesitant step, and extended her kindness to him once more. His own sienna ears flattened and he tucked his chin to his neck, but he didn't retreat.
He shook his head quickly. No, he didn't. He didn't want to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about it, but somehow all these little snippets of sadness always escaped and soured everything. But to his immense surprise, she suddenly offered him an alternative and he snapped his gaze back up to seek her own but she'd looked away to give him a bit of privacy. The O'Malley boy exhaled and spoke: "Yeah, I'd like that." His tone was measured, and his voice soft as if he feared spooking himself out of the committment.
He stepped forward, glanced away, then back again. "Maybe we should, uh... get off the ice first. Might not be safe." He turned a fraction to head back the way he came but paused to glance over at her, waiting for her to join him.
Basing the find off of
THIS heheheh
Her head swung back in his direction as he mentioned that he would like to adventure. Her tail swung in loose, happy arcs left and right and she found herself smiling again without knowing it.
Okay, awesome!
She hummed excitedly, and as he mentioned getting off the ice, Hydra looked down. She hadn't even
realized that they'd stood on ice; it hadn't groaned beneath her weight, and she heard no telltale cracks that spoke of its protest. In the cold days that had passed, the lake that she had no idea was even here had frozen over. Normally she'd slip and slide on ice, but there was a decent layer of snow over it that must have prevented that.
Yeah, okay,
she agreed, and moved beside him now. But there was an area that Rian had disturbed in his approach that had caught her eye, and Hydra gestured toward it.
Hey, look,
she murmured, darting over toward the area with careful steps. The lithe Ostrega blinked and nudged the rear-end of some creature that was surely dead—it was half-in, half-out of the frozen watersource, enclosed in its icy tomb... but what it was, Hydra could not tell. It was large, and finned... and Hydra swept the snow surrounding it away in gentle movements.
Hydra perked up at his answer, and he felt his heart skip another beat. How was it that her entire demeaor was so infectious; like she'd crawled up between his ribs and hijacked his emotions. Rian felt as if he couldn't even stay sad around her. He was faced with a slippery slope, and the decision to either take a leap or back down. The boy hesitated when moved alongside him—the air she displaced moved against him, and he felt the individual hairs of his fur shift. He swallowed. How was he supposed to properly mourn the loss of his family if he was too busy galavanting around with friends?
His mind caught up with his feet and he blinked, turned, and watched as she shuffled over to a place near his tracks. Rian cocked his head and crept towards her with cautious steps. She filled his mind to the point of bursting—his anxiety needed something to focus on, and so it picked the nonexistant danger of the thick sheet of lake ice. He extended his nose towards the thing that she touched, and sniffed. It smelled slimy and mossy. Gross, mostly. Oddly finned and iridescent in the faint overcast light.
The O'Malley boy pricked his ears and watched as she dug at the snow, kicking it away, revealing the arced tail of a fish half-stuck in the ice. He furrowed his brows, looked at her, then the fish. "What the hell is that?" He whispered in a monotone.
Hydra was very much so in the zone as she sniffed at the cold, frostbitten carcass. Though it ought to be limp, the cold weather had brought it to a rigid state. Still, it certainly did have a mossy scent over the staleness of winters bite, and her muzzle wrinkled in protest as she withdrew and snorted so as to rid of the scent. Hydra had never seen a fish before—the fare her family hunted was of the four-legged variety, and her head tilted comically at the water. Rian's question caused her head to right itself as she looked back to him. I dunno,
she murmured in response, circling it loosely, squinting suspiciously at the water.
As she pawed at the waters, Hydra caught sight of something else. It looked large, and it looked as though it held the finned thing in its grasp. Whoa,
she whispered, a flutter of anxiety filling her breast. It was unmoving, too. Frozen to death more likely than not. But the only thing on Hydra's mind was what else lurked beneath that they couldn't see. Hydra did not like it, not one bit... but could not tell, once again, if she felt fear or interest. The two combatted one another within her. At the very least, she felt strangely safer in the presence of Rian—it was he who kept her four legs still, else she might have simply fled the scene.
As the moment evolved, Rian found himself less fixated on the discovery and far more focused on her reactions. The shifting planes of her face as each emotion washed over her was utterly fascinating to him, and he caught himself staring as she simultaneously inspected the unusually preserved example of natural predation. He could almost, if he concentrated hard enough on the quirks of her lip and the flicker of her gaze, feel a mimicked ghost of the emotions in his own blood. Like reading a piece of music and imagining the notes in ones head; Rian was feeling vicariously through her. But his own heart remained oddly dormant, barely beating.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and moved to stand beside her when she stopped to stare, wide-eyed, at something beneath the ice. A larger finned creature, with teeth like seratted shale, had half of the fish down his gullet. He felt as if time had simply stopped, and began to wonder if he was even awake or if she was yet another figment of his erratic imagination. He wavered when he glanced at her again and saw the open astonishment painted across her face. The cage around his voice bent a bit, and a single thing escaped: "Is this even real?" He snapped his jaws shut with a click and grimaced.
Hydra felt him beside her, but was so engrossed that she nearly did not notice. Nearly. His furs brushed against her own and her eyes went from fish to foot of Rian. No one was granted this proximity to her but for her mirror images; he stood within a sacred space that few were permitted to linger in for any length of time unless they bore the surname Ostrega. She licked her lips, shy once again.
His question caused her to peer upward at him before lifting her head. Her mind deceived her, and she sucked in a breath. How do we know?
She asked with a shudder, the thought too deep for her young mind. She was confounded. When she dreamed Hydra was not aware of it; it was another world, another life she lived, until she became a part of this one. And both worlds felt real to Hydra—reality was not something she had ever thought to question.
A product of his once-happy background—standing close to friends, so that he could feel the heat from their skin, was an entirely normal thing. He did not require the same personal space that others did, nor was he aware that it was a very important thing. He slipped in and out of the spaces left behind by passing lovers, friends, family, and siblings. Always moving between each. It was less often now he found himself seeking the comfort of proximity, especially with half of his family dead or missing, but it was a subconscious desire all the same.
So he stood beside Hydra, unaware of the discomfort and surprise it brought her, or the overwhelming, all-devouring hint of vastness he'd impressed upon her with his innoculous question. The monster that hoarded his heart. The void. Whatever it was, he felt foolish for allowing even the barest breath of it escape his mouth. "You're here." He replied slowly as he turned to look at her. "I've never met you before, so there's no way this isn't." He admitted shyly. "Can't dream about something you've never seen right?" Right?!
Dream?
Hydra inquired, head lifting slightly. The girl was unaware she dreamt; she had never awoken from a nightmare, either. The dreams she did have were so similar to the life she lived that she had never wondered about them. Always, her mirror images were there—and so there had never been a cause to question them. Hydra blinked, slowly, looking to her paws and humming, Real, or not real?
How could they know for certain?
She knew dragons were not real, because they could not be seen or felt. Rian she saw, but could she feel him...? The youngest of Amekaze and Charon mulled over this, though made little headway in her ponderings. Hydra could think of only one thing.
Her thoughts oftentimes could be hypocritcal, but she was a product of Charon Ostrega as much as she was her pragmatic mother. And so, gingerly, Hydra turned to brush her nose against his muzzle, feeling the whiskers there and grinning ever so slightly. There was relief present on her face as she said with a sigh, Real,
definitely real. Never before had she felt such a tingling sensation within her toes, and she could not think those to be a product of something not real. It did not make sense to her, and so it could not be.
They stood there, hovering on the brink of something fathomless, with their breath fogging in the chilly winter air. But perspective was also important to maintain here: there was, in fact, still a fish eating another smaller fish entombed in ice in the middle of an entirely frozen lake. He was also standing next to a mysterious shadow with a pair of eyes so blue that he feared drowning in them. Her emotions were wild, and raging, and he wanted desperately to lose himself in that fire so that he might feel properly again, if only for a moment.
His question hung uncertainly in the air between them, and wondered why his mind would betray the only chance he had to escape the crushing depths of his anguish. But then, as soft as a whisper, he felt the heat of her breath billow over his own lips and her whiskers tangle with his own. Rian, shocked, did not dare move, breathe, or think until she pulled away again and only then did he suck in a desperate breath through his clenched teeth. A searing heat bloomed across his cheeks, and his toes went entirely numb, but he couldn't recognize it for what it was—infatuation. It was uncomfortable, of course, but he wanted more.
Rian swallowed thickly and flattened his ears. "Yeah," he squeaked. "You-uh, pretty good thinking, that." He stammered awkwardly as he attempted to take a step back, only to slip a bit on the ice. His elbow connected hard and pain shot up through the funny bone straight to his skull. He winched, hissed, and righted himself. "Ice is bullshit." He decreed, and so it shall be.
Hydra grinned proudly at his words, her tail waving. While normally Hydra was not the thinker of the grop—and even that moment had required little thought on her part—she felt good that he thought so. Her ears pricked forward and she watched him step backward and slip, and gasped as he fell. Hydra once again drew near to him, mindful of the ice. She was no medic at all, and so could not know if he was injured beyond repair or anything of that sort. You okay?
Hydra thought to ask when he righted himself... and then she swept snow over the patch of ice he had slipped upon, thinking that might give it more traction.
Ice can be fun, but it can also be bullshit,
she said with a little grin. Lemme show you,
Hydra turned and darted away from the spooky fish and Rian, and began to sweep snow away where it was hardly there to begin with. The ice, she inspected, was still incredibly sturdy and so safe. While she wasn't an expert there were no telltale groans or cracks to be heard... and so Hydra felt alright. She went on this way for a little while until there was a decently sized circle, and once this was done Hydra stepped upon the snow and squinted at the ice. She hoped her long limbs wouldn't fail her now, but who knew?
She took several steps backward before she bounded toward the ice and let herself slide gracefully upon it. Whatever way she leaned she slid, and when she turned and curled inward tightly she was able to do two little spins. Dizzied by that, as she always was, Hydra managed to misstep and slip herself. She fell onto her side and continued to slide and spin a bit, but laughed and echoed his sentiment: Ice is bullshit!
Withholding the casual smile that threatened to spill across his lips at her concern, Rian moved the limb a bit and then shook his head. "I'm good." He replied as she swept over the patch with a bit more snow. It wouldn't help, but the thought was there, innocent as it was. The spot would bruise but the initial pain was already receeding. He tracked her as she darted away without much explaination, and began to dig away more of the snow to reveal the pristine surface of the lake below. The ice lacked any cracks, and any sign that it could potentially give way beneath her, but he worried regardless.
Soon the circle began to grow and she soon found it to her liking. Rian remained standing there, favoring his banged up elbow a bit to let the nerves calm down, and observed as she backpedaled a few feet only to launch herself across the smooth surface. The O'Malley boy gasped, eyes blown wide, and took a step forward realized she was well in control of the situation. She spun around twice before falling onto her side and skidding to a halt.
Not to be undone, the russet boy claimed three large strides and lept upon the surface. His paws slid out from underneath him almost immediately and he went gliding across the ice on his stomach until he crashed, face first, into one of the piles Hydra had created when clearing the little rink. He clambered awkwardly to his feet and shook the snow from his face; the bite of the cold tingled the sensitive skin of his inner ear and he jerked it this way and that, trying to clear it out. "Where'd you learn that?" He asked as he seated himself and lifted a paw to dig the snow out of his ear.