Moonspear more to do than can ever be done,

attn @Mira and @Mintaka

 

The walk home was done in silence, and once they past the borders threshold was Hydra able to look back at her children. Along the way, she ensured no threats lingered; her stomach sank to think of not one, but two of her cubs escaping the attentions of whoever supervised them that hour. Along the way, Hydra would be given pause when she thought danger might lurked. She advised her children of what to listen for. Complete silence in the wilderness can indicate that there may be a threat nearby, she informed, once in a low breath. 

She felt fortunate that no such silence overcame the world. 

Hydra did not address their error yet, too focused on their environment. And when they moved past the borders, Hydra looked back to them at last. What were you thinking? She asked, the question not at all rhetorical. Her tone was devoid of judgment, but her gaze was rich with her disappointment in them.

Complete silence in the wilderness can indicate that there may be a threat nearby.

Mira scribbled the information down into her brain, but she made no response, ears still flattened shyly to her head, tail tucked between her hind legs as she trudged. She was in the doghouse, why? All she wanted was to...

I was hunting Mintaka. When she left, I followed. I was foolish. Mira explained simply, and though her tone was not mopey, her posture was every bit of it. Sorry was not a word that came naturally to her; she felt it was communicated in her submissive looks alone- but she was not sure if mother would demand apologies, and so she hesitated with the words on the tip of her tongue.

Well, Mira spoke before Mintaka could weave her excellent story of asking her sister to come along, so there went that plan. The silver pup wasn't as mopey as the darker, but she was visibly disappointed, not even casting a glance around her surroundings. Less shame and fear and submission, more simple dejection. Her mother said that the birds weren't singing because there was danger, but Mintaka knew better. They were sad, too. 

"I was chasing a flutter-bye and then I chased a squirrel and then a hopper bug and I didn't mean to go so far away," she mumbled, looking up at Hydra. Her mother didn't look angry, but she was... something else. Something that maybe was worse. "I'm sorry."

Hydra listened to Mira, and then Mintaka. Mintaka, chasing butterflies and squirrels and grasshoppers—Mintaka, too dense, also, to realize she had left the safety of home. She is a child, she reminded herself. You could have been killed, she rumbled. There are wolves out there that would be happy to do such a terrible thing. Her heart rose to here throat when she thought of it. Hydra could have arrived too late; Hydra might not have realized anything was amiss at all had she not been patrolling herself, seeing silver and black specks dart over the borderline. 

She looked to Mira and drawled, I know at the time it must have felt you were doing the right thing. You wanted to protect Mintaka, she understood that much, and sighed. The best way to do that right now is to tell any adult. In fighting, bigger is not always better—but as children, you and your siblings all would be too easy to be killed. If not a wolf, then a cougar. If not a cougar, perhaps a mother bear. Her eyes drifted to Mintaka and she rumbled, you could have gotten not only yourself hurt, or killed, but your sister. And do you know what that would do to the rest of your family? How could she make Mintaka understand? Soft, foolish Mintaka. A child. She is a child. 

Hydra also imagined she was not long for the world. But she did not love her any less for who she was. The bond that came from being her mother was different, now, from how detached she had decided to be with her sister. 

It would make us very sad, simple terms for her simple girl, and she continued on in her low voice, it would cause all of Moonspear to become sad. But your father and I, most of all. To lose you, there would always be a part of us both that will feel that sadness. There is only one Mira and Mintaka that I care so much for, and that is the two of you. 

And her sadness would lay waste to many, for it often was one and the same with her anger. Whoever had done it would not know happiness ever in this lifetime, because there would be nothing else left for them to feel once she eviscerated them—

Premature thoughts, she realized, the furs along her nape settling. She breathed out and said, you are fortunate nothing happened to you. There will be a time you will be allowed to leave Moonspear, but today is not that day. And when the time first does come, it will not be alone, either. And I do not mean you might adventure out with your younger cousins. I mean your aunts, uncles, your older siblings... myself or your father... am I understood? she looked to them once more, listening once again.

boooo, I suck. sorry yall!

In some other lands children might've been given gentler versions of the truth, but this was not that place. Mother taught her wolves woukd be happy to kill children such as them. And though she doubted the foolish little boy called Almight could've hurt them- perhaps Mintaka, considering they were equally naive- Mira knew now she was naive in a way too, and had not been prepared for the possibility of a greater threat.

When Mother spoke of the sadness of losing them, Mira felt a greater shame. She had never wanticipated to hurt or dissapoint her mother, and now she had done so, and could've even hurt her more. Mira was not one who could understand the feelings of others, and could not place herself in Mother's shoes, but wished to be a satisfactory daughter for her all the same. 

To Hydra's final demand, Mira nodded shyly. i understand. she breathed, ducking her head as she mentally scolded herself for being such a fool.

fading this on my end! <3 <3 <3 NO ONE SUCKS

Mira answered, and Mintaka was quiet—in what Hydra believed was shame—and Hydra remained quiet for a moment longer. I may not always be there to save you. Nor your father. This world is far from a fair, gentle place, she informed. Hydra did not wish to lose them to it, but it was all too possible. They both reminded her of their mortality, and this time she had been fortunate enough to catch them before anything did go wrong. So, I will teach you how to save yourselves, she remarked none too absently before forging ahead in silence. Dirge would not enjoy her providing lessons so early on, but what would he prefer between that and their early grave? Hydra knew the answer.