she tumbles down the mountain, keeping at the speed where her heart remains lodged in her throat, and to slow down now would mean to go crashing down. she's chosen a rather steep incline to descend, and her trot turns to a lope turns to a canter, until she can barely keep up her lightning pace. the manner with which the silver moves to avoid obstacles and keep to her desired trail is almost violent, and the risk of snapping bones is rather uncomfortably high. but the rush, the burn of pure instinct and thrill, is addicting, and only the gradual leveling-out of the descent, or a collision, can hope to slow her now.
Hydra sees her from above; Isilme is easy to mistake for an avalanche in its very beginnings, when the snow starts to stir, roll together, combine to create one big wall of death impossible to avoid. As Hydra observes, Hydra fancies that this could be Isilme regardless with some work; Dragomir, too. She would train them until they could best their adversaries and be only that for them, just as she herself was.
Before long Hydra elected to join her; the she-wolfs pursuit began slowly enough, but soon she let the mountain carry her weight forward. For the matriarch, avoiding things in her path here was second nature; the she-wolf could traverse the paths of this place blindly, if need be, given how often she moved throughout them. Snow flew helterskelter around her as she advanced, still plenty far from Isilme; her stride lengthened, devouring the earth as she sought to meet her with a now lolling tongue.
she runs, and burns, and there is fierce joy in this simple act. she is oblivious to hydra's approach, focused as she is on avoiding a head-on collision. but as the shadow nears, she can no longer go unnoticed. the silver sharply avoids a looming pine, ducking low under the branches. she glances once back to find the unstoppable force that is hydra, and her tail lashes once in gladness.
she slides down an incline, finding herself for a few seconds in a relatively clear patch. she glances once back to affirm it is hydra that follows, and almost immediately afterward stumbles. she crashes forward, attention drawn violently in the same direction as she rolls, finally coming to a stop when she collides with a snowbank. splaying out her limbs, she rights her head and peers around for hydra with a lashing of her tail against the snow to prove she's fine.
Looking back was an error on the part of Isilme; Hydra watched what played out next in slow motion.
Her heart rose in her throat unbidden as the girl fell, and fell, and fell; she had not seen the death of her parents, but imagined that this must have been what it looked like once the fighting had ended between them. Isilme was lucky that the snow had been there to cushion her fall—but Hydra did not even think of this as she moved then at break-neck speed, avoiding the divets her subordinates body left behind.
She was breathless by the time she stopped abruptly before Isilme, spraying snow all around her as her hind-end swung around and she forced her legs to take root. Hydra prepared to dig, but then the girls head rose from the snow. Isilme!
Hydra breathed, tail waving behind her as relief dominated her features. Are you alright?
She asked first, moving forward a ginger step to sniff for blood.
Once ascertaining that all was well, Hydra and Isilme were on there way again; training endurance and speed both, this day.