Moonspear black holes in my favorite sweaters

the anger that had seemed boundless is only now starting to grow faint around the edges. hydra's words, and her brothers, fill the quiet at the back of her mind, and gradually she loosens her grip around that sharp-edged hatred. 

she follows the borderline as evening descends, alone in the quiet before the night. somewhere beyond the limits of her vision comes the eerie call of a fox, dissonant and distant. she pauses, gaze settling somewhere on that blurred horizon line, auds pressed forward and limbs falling motionless.

The matriarch was near; she, too, heard the sound. But she had not stopped; it was within Moonspear, and it was unwelcome here. None yet had bred but she was certain she would, when the time came... and once her sister asked, there would be more children within their ranks than the year prior. Fox could be pests that scavenged and stole, and were a threat to those that could not protect themselves when they wished. 

Along the way, Hydra noted Isilme; the matriarch beckoned to her with a chuff. The two of them could vent out their frustrations this way, namely Isilme... Hydra would put her to work, see what she could do and help as needed. Pausing only to see if the girl joined her, she would move on swiftly once it was noted she had.

shadows lengthen and spill down the mountainside; one takes form. the girl swishes her tail in wordless greeting, though understands soon enough that the queen does not intend to pause long. a flick of her ears conveys her easy willingness to follow, and she twisted to leap after the shadow easily. 

they move quickly over the foothills, Isilme following closely. she guesses their motivation easily enough, relying on the queen to lead the way; she is hardly a good tracker.

They were downwind; it was not in their favor. But the fox yowled again, and Hydra felt the fury within her rise. It was likely here in search of a mate and the opportunity to breed, have kits of its own... it would find no such fortune here. Simply its end. Hydra's pricked ears swiveled as she adjusted their course some, and soon enough the reek of it was evident. With a rumble Hydra pressed onward, Isilme at her side. 

And there it was; red against white. There was not enough of it; Hydra wanted more, though of a far richer shade than what the vixen wore. Its yowl was cut short as its jowls clapped shut at the sight of them. Hydra was still but for a moment, peering to Isilme as she commanded: if you catch it, kill it. No children would it have here; no more males would it lure to where Moonspear whelped near. 

Flank left; I will go right, push it in your direction, she informed coolly, her malevolent gaze cast now upon their adversary witless in its season. And without waiting another instant, Hydra surged in its direction, silent and unforgiving—as death often was.

the call comes again, closer. auds press toward hydra at the low growl that seeps from her chest, though remains largely silent. it is apparent that they are near; a few moments more and they are upon it. for a moment they are motionless, and then hydra's command is accepted with a no and they are moving again. 

she cuts left even as she queen surges in the other direction; rounding on the fox with cold ferocity. there is a rush of elation at this smooth rush of events, and then she's pressing forward too, moving to meet the vixen with jaws agape. it appears for a moment as if it might try and meet her in some ill-fated attempt at battle, but then it sinks low and darts suddenly in the opposite direction, attempting to dart by her. 

isilme wheels, driving after the thing and landing a grip across the vixen's hindquarters. she wrenches backward, gathering enough momentum to fling to vixen back in the direction of hydra. it lands heavily in the snow before her, and the sterling girl darts forward once more in an attempt to fasten her jaws into the creature's flank, intent in tearing open the soft flesh there.

Fox were clever creatures. Not quite so clever as their cousin, the coyote, but clever—and quick. If given a clear path, they could be as nimble as a rabbit; but Hydra served as an obstruction as it came to her, thrust her way by Isilme who had thwarted it as well. It's face was near her, and Hydra moved toward its throat without any intent of delivering her blow there; it reacted, turning toward Isilme, who aimed for its flank. 

Hydra's true goal was the leg that came in her direction as it turned; its heatscent came to her as its own tail whipped in her direction. Both that and the left rear-leg found its way in Hydra's mouth as she bore down, breaking the limb and, once released, shoving it toward Isilme for her to take it under her control—to deliver the killing blow, if she could.

hydra is swift, sure, and the silver relentless in her attacks. it is a particularly traumatic game of monkey in the middle; the wolves remain largely silent, while from the fox slip yowls and the sharp crack of bone. when once more the fox is driven toward her, she moves for the neck. fangs catch her muzzle a moment, scrapping painfully against skin and bone. 

but the girl drives forward, securing a grip just behind the jaw and clenching the tender flesh there, whipping her muzzle upward as she tears through flesh. a scream, shrill and near-deafening, one final desperate snap at her and then the vixen stills, brought finally to an end. the girl holds fast her grip, wanting to ensure the very last traces of life leave the creature; already her tail lashes behind her, a victory banner.

Unbothered by the scream, Hydra was watchful over Isilme's deliverance of her decree; once it was done, Hydra moved to nose the young girl on her own shoulder (likely smearing foxblood, there, in the process) with a proud wave of her own plume. There was pride there within her eyes for what she had witnessed and partaken in; Isilme had done well. Drawing in a loose semi-circle around the girl, Hydra surged forward then to grab for an accessible portion of the limp creature to instigate a game of tug-of-war with the Xi, tail still waving left and right in slow, sweeping arcs. 

As far as Hydra was concerned, it was a good day for this—venting out old frustrations, and bonding both it would seem. Should her grip have landed, Hydra would attempt to compromise Isilme's own grip with a rough shake of her own head.

pride, elation; they swell inside as her own tail echoes Hydra's. a moment of confusion when Hydra moves to grab the creature; play had been a rare thing as a pup. but understanding dawns, and as she moves to shake roughly the creature, she hangs tightly on. low grown, playful and short, slips from her as she wrenches backward, once, twice, tail lashing all the while. taking cue from hydra, she tries a rough wrenching of her own muzzle; something gives, pops.

No doubt the way they attacked the creature caused the limb to dislocate as it had; Hydra snorted as she came away with the short end of the meal, though her eyes betrayed her amusement. Thinking one of her cubs might enjoy the souveneir, Hydra shakes out her fur and invites the silver cub along with her if she so pleases. It would be a brief stop to the rendezvous before she inevitably resumed her patrol, but Hydra would not mind the company of her Xi. She had been absent a while, but Hydra was glad for her return.

grin comes to rest fleetingly across her muzzle as the creature, which only moment ago lived and breathed, gives and tears. their easy interaction, the swift and violent battle, is a balm to all her hurts. when the shadow invites her along, the cub accepts easily; making to follow after the leader with the fox still dangling from her jaws, leaving odd tracks in the snow as it drags alongside the two of them.