Moonspear I've been thinking too much

open but attn: @Drogon

Hydra had not forgotten the promise she had made Drogon, but with what had transpired with the Woods in more recent days Hydra had been busier than typical. Still, she had much to update Drogon with, and as he was her decided apprentice she supposed now was as good a time as any to begin. Drogon had been patrolling plenty and proved to be a good member of Moonspear.

As she patrolled, she sought his trail. She felt certain he may be nearby given the fact that he patrolled regularly, but she had not caught his scent on this particular portion of their borders this day. Still, she had the mind to seek him out eventually.

Drogon patrols Moonspear’s borders at a leisurely pace. He moves with decided purpose but absent rush. That is mostly what his life consists of after all: tracking and patrolling. Still, he’s content and …well he’s become rather domestic which is a pleasant if not shocking surprise to him. He’s settled into Moonspear without too much trouble and for a juvenile delinquent such as Drogon that’s a noteworthy milestone. He’ll be nearing his two month milestone in another couple of weeks. Would that make it the longest he’s stayed in any one place? He can’t remember and he supposes his “record” doesn’t really matter. The point is that he’s in Moonspear and he likes it enough to remain and to Drogon that is the most important thing. The sound of footfalls approaching causes his steps to slow as he glimpses over his shoulder to see one of the cerberus approach. He thinks it is Hydra but, admittedly, he’s not overly sure. It could easily be one of her sisters. His indecisiveness of which of the triplets he sees forces him into a posture of submission regardless ( because all three of them are of a higher rank than he because he’s still in the youth tier ) but he suspects ( ok, he hopes ) that she’s Hydra. “Hey,” The tundrian greets her with sweeps of his tail and a charming grin tugging upon his muzzle.

He greets her and Hydra moves to nip his shoulder in a show of companionship, tail waving. Hey, she responded, I haven't forgotten about you—I've just been patrolling lately a bit outside of Moonspear's claim to ensure that wolf or any of his friends were lurking. I actually found out new information, anyhow, she shared, and voluntarily told it: they were keeping a captive there. Wildfire. She escaped, she wondered if he knew about their desire to hold captives, or even if they had any... but he hadn't mentioned it before that she could recall, and she trusted him. Though he had basically verbalized he could lie if necessary in his willingness to spy for Blackfeather, she did not think he would lie to her. It was a vain thought, as most of her thoughts were, but she studied his expression nonetheless to see what he did think on the matter.

Drogon lets out a happy noise as she moves forward to nip at his shoulder ( because he’s an attention whore and he enjoys her attention very much ), his tail giving a few wags. His ears swivel and then slick back to lay at half mast atop his skull, his blue-black muzzle rising a few inches in contemplation as she apologizes and makes it clear that she hadn’t forgotten about him. So, Hydra then ( which was a relief because he’s still worried about confusing her for one of her sisters ). “You’re a busy woman,” Drogon responds in a no-worries manner. “I understand.” He tells her sincerely: and he does. Perhaps not in the way he would be able to if he understood what it was like to have the responsibilities she did because in that respect he didn’t but he hadn’t expected her undivided attention and in the Ansbjørn’s mind there was no cause for her to apologize. She was doing her job and he was content to do …Drogon things. Patrol, track, hunt, and …occasionally pick a ( friendly! or not so friendly ) fight or two. His body posture shifts to attentive as he pauses to focus his glacial gaze upon her ignoring the small hitch in his throat as he takes her in in earnest. Hydra needed no encouragement from him and Drogon listens to her information with a small frown tugging at the edges of his lips. Captive? Granted, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him but as far as he’d been aware the wolves of the Woods hadn’t had any captives during his short stay there; and if they had they’d kept the very quiet and very under wraps. “I guess trying to murder wolves for no reason isn’t good enough. Now they’re taking captives.” He tries to recall if anyone ever mentioned anything about it but nothing comes to his mind and he supposes it doesn’t much matter.

“If they had captives there during my time among them they kept them very well hidden,” It seemed unlikely that a would could be kept hidden from the rest of the pack for very long, at the very least. “but I doubt they had any. When I was with them they were very small. There was probably more kids than adults.” And even then he’d only met four adults: Nyx, Damien, Miraak and Potema. Drogon swipes his salmon pink tongue across his jowls realizing that he didn’t even stop to think about the captive that Hydra had mentioned: “Is she ok? The Wildfire woman, I mean?” He inquires, unsure if Hydra had actually seen and spoken to her or not.

They're insane, Hydra says with a sigh. Drogon did the right thing by leaving them, honestly. She could not imagine him partaking in such activities independently. He seemed the sort to just do as she did: take out the enemy whenever necessary, when one was gained. Not take them in to torture them. Not only that, but not make enemies for zero reason at all. There was no sense to that, was there?

More kids than adults. Do you remember them? All their names, I mean, Hydra felt like he had definitely told her own of the names, but it was one of those moments where when of course you tried to conjure it, it did not come to mind. It was on the tip of her tongue! But she could not think of the entirety of it.

As for his next inquiry, Hydra sighed. She's alive. But I suppose she's doing as well as any tortured wolf would be, not the best, surely, but fortunately, she was alive. I didn't see her for myself, Hydra explained. But her friend had shared with her a good amount that led her to this conclusion.

Drogon’s ears twitch as she asks if he remembers their names. He remembers the ones who told him their names, the one’s he’s met at least. “Nyx, Damien, Potema and Miraak were the adults that I met or spent time with,” There were a few that he hadn’t met on any sort of official terms but he could only give her what he knew. “The boy that was under Nyx’s guardianship with me …he introduced himself to me as Neo.” But as it wasn’t the wolf that Hydra wanted he doubted that would be overly useful to his mentor. Still, Drogon included it because she’d told him to give her the names. “Right,” Drogon murmurs morosely, a terse frown tugging at his lips. “She will probably carry those scars with her forever.” He’s never been tortured but he remembers the trauma he endured long ago: when he’s been young and had placed his trust in someone he shouldn’t have. Still, as traumatic as it had been he supposes he should thank The Stranger for abducting him. His life has been hard but it has shaped him into a survivor and he wouldn’t be here now if he hadn’t been kidnapped. As terrible as it had been for him — no doubt for his family — he’s stronger for it. Perhaps this Wildfire will be stronger for what she had endured, too.

231 words

It would be good to know these names in days to come. Each of them knew, after all, what was going on within that Forest. And as for the scars Wildfire might carry with her, evidently she deserved them—but she knew that saying this would do little to boost morale and, if anything, lessen the amount of heat toward Blackfeather she wanted.

Now that those matters were out of the way, Hydra felt it was time to begin on teaching Drogon about fighting, physically. It was why he had agreed to come here at all and as he was her apprentice, Hydra was prepared to help him succeed and also to make good on her word. He had been given time to restore himself from his time in the Wilds, and certainly appeared healthier for it.

Tell me what you know of fighting, Hydra prompted, interested to hear what he already knew.

The topic of their conversation shifts to training as Hydra invites him to tell her what he knows of fighting and Drogon who is much more accustomed to showcasing his battle prowess struggles with the concept of talking about it. He’s learned a lot from picking fights and instigating friendly spars with other loners. He’s “won” his fair share ( probably out of dumb luck or their pity on him as he was a child ) and he’s lost a few. Once upon a time he thought that losing was the worst thing to happen but now that he’s older and wiser he realizes that there’s a lesson to be learned in each spar lost. It brings to front his mistakes and thus makes him a better fighter for it. “I’ve mastered the basics and I’ve picked up a few tricks along the way, some of them dirtier than others.” Drogon can’t help but grin cheekily at that, but the truth remains: not every fight will be fought fairly and having some dirty tricks to fall back on never hurt. You didn’t bring a knife to a gun fight without a gun hidden on your person just in case.

Drogon knows he has a long way to go yet, that just because he’s earned his warrior specialty doesn’t mean it’s over. He’s got his eye on that mastery, after all, and to earn that he was going to have to keep pushing himself harder. Making himself better because he’s learned to acknowledge that there was always room for improvement ( though it was easy to let his ego get the better of him from time to time ). “The benefit of sparring with total strangers: they don’t usually hold back and can teach you things without even meaning to.” And Drogon …he had a particular talent for digging beneath the skin. He’s fairly skilled ( most of the time ) at judging where to cut to get what he wants and usually when he’s got a lot of pent up energy or feelings he seeks release and to work through it in the art of sparring. Drogon isn’t sure if he’s given her what she sought to know but he offers it up nonetheless with a easy grin and slightly sheepish slope of his broad shoulders.