Moonspear we are all in this together,

attn @Frøya but open!

 

Hydra had fancied she had found herself a whelping den for the oncoming days. She knew her time was near, and so often kept here rather than beyond. But now was a day Hydra felt she was due for a long walk, and so she rose from where she dozed and darted into the shaded wood that surrounded the perimeter. And then moved even beyond that. The place where she would whelp was a private one, and she had done plenty of work to keep it secluded. 

For all that had transpired in days past, it was over now. She was eager to embrace the oncoming days and even the present moment, and so she would. The matriarch picked up her pace to move at a comfortable trot, feeling the life within thrill at the movement.

He caught sight of her as she emerged from a thick copse of evergreens.

Not that he had been actively searching for her; her reclusiveness was not beyond her this close to whelping, and he was not immune to her suddenly, willingly able to give him to the slip. It did not come wordlessly, though few words had been involved.

And silently, he could not help but pursue her out of habit.

Though the temptation was there to see just where she had dug in finally after abandoning the prior site, he did not particularly feel like tempting fate if she were to double back and discover him. A rough location was all he needed—she would show him when she felt it necessary. When it felt safe, perhaps, once the pervasive need to be territorial and defensive eased.

So he watched her meander, intrigued by the jovial step she had adopted. How long that energy and tone would last was anyone's best guess; very much the same was his guess to how close she was to whelping. There was a certainty that she was drawing close to that point, if not because of the loitering near a den then the gradual shift in her body that was unwilling to hide any longer. His assessment of her was brief, the answer simply left at soon.

They continued wandered out separately for a spell, at least until the thickening timber began to mask her from his view. It was then that he called for her, the chuff coarse and quiet against the ambience of the mountain. Questioning at best, wondering aloud if she would have his company or not.

It was strange, the feeling of being followed. She attributed it to being @Antares, however—one of her more frequent followers as of late, though she never deterred him from it. In fact, she always appreciated knowing he was there. East and West lately always seemed to be @Lyra, or @Alya... more often than not, both. Lyra had made it known, though, she was keeping to the border and seeing it maintained. Alya moreso was interested in hearing about how it was to rear a child when they were first born, and Hydra, nostalgic and thinking of her own firstborns, would share with her willingly. It was a welcome distraction to all that had come to pass but some odd days ago. Had it been weeks, yet? 

But her husbands bark came then. She supposed she should have expected him in the bunch, too, but Hydra had come to avoid most men in her state out of instinctual habit. Dirge, though, she found then and there she did not mind. Hydra was aware that while she was close to her time, she was not near close enough to desire to snap him away. She pivoted, and gaily trot toward the direction he hailed her from. 

Before long she saw him, looking well suited for the woody terrain they traversed in. Watching me, were you? she teased, darting forward to nip him, what is it you find hard to resist? My belly, or the scent of mothers-milk I seem to be exuding as of late? she quipped next, circling to come alongside him. You do not need to answer. I know it is both, she rejoined, but you can add more, if you like, she offered. Being this late into her pregnancy, Hydra would take any and all compliments. She was sore, everywhere, and despite her good mood she was still all too aware of the aches and pains she dealt with. But what would come of it would ever be worth it all.

She whirled and spied him and there was relatively little to keep her from him. At this point he doesn't anticipate being met by her teeth; though those moments do come, they are far and few between as they had been. A year prior would have easily still had her testing his mettle, but somewhere along the way there had grown less reaction—her barbs instead came in the way of words and hastened nips, the way he preferred.

A smirk sprawled out across his features; Dirge is open in his appraisal of her, willingly lecherous as much as it is to pry into her well being. The apprehension that had settled in him last year is replaced by anticipation instead, the concerns of late secondary to the would-be fruits of their union. For as satisfactory as it was for him to burden her, he believed that he certainly made up for it by bending to her every whim. Her fishing for complements would not go unheeded either.

"Is that a hush note of anguish I hear over your body betraying you?" A rhetorical inquiry at best; he could not avoid heaving a barb back in her direction for all its good nature and worth. "You really needn't worry; I only wanted your attention because I was tiring of trying to keep up with you. Perhaps I should try harder next year to slow you, lest your restlessness of late do us both in." His smirk turned to jesting sneer, a licentious thing scrawled upon him as much as the telegraphed preparation to spurn a willing flash of her teeth that he expects.

Regardless, his mouth ran, this time of a proper husband.

"I'll have you know that it is exceptionally difficult to adorn you with flattery when you keep relocating. Worry is not becoming of you," and he had not let it go unnoticed. He could conjure up the reasons why and then some, only to discover that he wished it not to burden them any longer. His gaze wandered her once again, idling over the swell of her and finding a handle on anticipation yet again.

It's a dichotomy of wants and desires for him at present; if not for the way her sisters likely lurked like shadows, he would have had half a mind to distract her similar to his persistence that had put her in her condition in the first place. Yet he knows better, doesn't fancy teeth to his hide over the harassment, and the doubt that she would entertain him this late is enough of a damper.

"Though admittedly, you are most beautiful even now. Quite irresistible, really," he concluded, yet not finished; he wonders instead, gently; "It won't be long, will it?"

Oh, but she liked that look. It might set the skin of others crawling, but Hydra knew him best. She had fallen for a lech, and before he had known her intimately he had perhaps thought her different than he. To start with, yes; she had never been touched by a man, after all. But he had awakened something in her, and it stirred to see him looking at her this way even despite her own insecurities—

But for his playful inquiry, he earned a playful nip to his cheek, or perhaps his whisker if he managed to catch her reaction in time. 

No!, her coy look rejoined firstly; but her insistent teeth revealed, candidly, perhaps. Hydra was a woman stronger than most who had few doubts, least of all in herself. But here and now one was revealed as she plod away from him, a faux storm as she paused some several feet away to turn and listen to the rest. As he continued, her expression shifted to that of an amused grin. He could not keep up with her? In this state? And how might you accomplish that, King Dirge? I am too swift, I would evade your attempts, she teased, knowing full well here and now she was hardly too swift. She felt thirty pounds heavier, perhaps more on a particularly dramatic day. But here she does impart upon him a flash of teeth, more of a rejoinder to his cruel little sneer. 

When she wasn't pregnant, she would make him run, alright. 

Strange how her hormones seemed to make her think now in an entirely different way as her blood ran hot. Not with anger; for her teeth had disappeared and she was coy, and sweet, again. Well, come and keep me from worry then, will you not? she invited, her own eyes flashing as she mirrored his own look from but moments ago. A lech, just like him, she was!

As he continued, Hydra lifted her chin a measure, looking to him with some (again, playful, as depicted by the twinkle in her own eye) measure of suspicion. Alright then, I will stay still for you. Go on, flatter me, she suggested with a wry little look in her eye. It certainly wouldn't hurt if he did... you will curry favor with the Queen, if you do. She is a true nightmare when upset, she drawled with a snicker.

Did he truly want her in this state? 

It was hard, when feeling out of her own skin, to think that he might. But Hydra was aware that within here was a miracle. One, or more, she carried the future of Moonspear once again. From that thought alone she glowed, but when his compliments came she looked absolutely radiant. Beautiful, he spoke, feeding her a luscious grape. Irresistible, he went on, plucking another from its stem and placing it upon her tongue. 

His next question distracted her from her own train of thought, far from the children now—gentle, sweet, his words were. They ought to have brought her to, but he had been quite wrong about the thought that his words would get him nowhere. This hour, anyway. Soon enough, she rejoins, not ignoring him by any means, we still have some time for ourselves... she tempted now with a bat of her lashes and a lick of her lips before darting away. 

Come on now, handsome; catch me, if you can, she prompted, moving to break into the woodlands to her right. They both knew that would not be much of a challenge, but Hydra thrilled at the thought anyway with an impish laugh.

Her teeth flashed at him, nearly grazing what would have assuredly been a very delicate patch of his face; his pull away had been timely for all the words out of his mouth and her tossed rejoinders to them. It was all in jest and how she did certainly jest and joust him in more than just words—she had captured the certain coveting of his gaze and ran with it just as much as she did tease him and run away.

This too, a mockery; he couldn’t help but act a little offended that she would scuttle away and her laugh only served to shuttle his own offense off to somewhere else as he sprang into action. Gently, of course, not with the pomp and circumstance that may have normally spurred him to take after her. He’d let her have her little advantage, that little bit of clout to think that she was actually making headway and holding leverage over him when he knew better.

He would antagonize her from afar, nevertheless.

“Catch you?” Disbelief would chase her in his tone. “I‌ think if I were to do such a thing one of your sisters would catch me by the tail. I’d rather let you tire so it doesn’t seem like a grand affair. I can admire the view from afar, I assure you,” and he did. The woodland consumed them, his steps picked up a touch before she completely disappeared from his view again.

After all, she would probably hide as it were.

He didn’t want this to actually turn into a game game.

“Why is it that I always have to catch you, anyway?” he called after her. “I don’t think I remember the last time you tried to catch me for fun. You seem to not have any trouble finding me when I decide to nap, of course—which I might add that I think you passed that onto our children.” ‌His gaze had deviated from her for just a moment, and he realized that she had in fact, disappeared from his view.

Said gaze concluded to narrowing.

Damn her anyway, she had chosen this stretch of wood for a reason.

He was right, of course. Real or imagined, her sisters would ever rally to her side in games or otherwise; mutely, she pleaded the fifth, but the impish look in her eye revealed she knew as much. Oh, come now, she drawled from the shadows of the wood to aid him in his endeavor of seeking her, but turned thoughtful as she stopped and drew silent. Her ears pricked as she listened for his voice, and him coming nearer. 

And then she erupted from where she hid, brambles and branches splitting as wide as her crocodilian jaws did. Hydra did not want this to be a game, game, either; whether he catch her, or she catch him, she would see to an end she knew they both desired. He had asked for this, and she so enjoyed roughhousing with him in any case. Fuel to her ever-burning fire for him.