Bramblepoint i always dream of electric sheep

July couldn't remember the last time he'd slept. His feet fell with heavy thuds as he lumbered along with half-lidded eyes that combed back and forth tiredly in search of shelter. Anywhere in this thick weald would have honestly sufficed for a wolf to rest, but this one was picky about these things. Riverwhite had been a place much colder than this, and he had not yet gotten used to lying in the open or sleeping without the feeling of his body being encased by something. Fatigue made him less fastidious on the matter though, and eventually he vowed to crawl into the next bushy hovel he found, no matter how prickly it looked.

The following morning found him deep beneath the thorniest looking hedge in these bramblewoods. His face and muzzle were red with scratches, evidence that he hadn't heeded the violence of the bush-spurs in his desperation to rest. It was approaching afternoon on that cool, overcast day before he began to stir, and it was a little while after that before he tried to escape from beneath the thorn bushes. A task easier said than done; and now that he had all his wits about him, July felt every spike and pinch of the briers he fought to free himself of.

The greenery shook violently and the rattle of his conflict echoed, as the trapped brute struggled.

Although time had passed, Hydra still was vigilant in searching for the man that had assaulted Rannoch. Now that he was Moonspear, she was more passionate than before on the matter. If a wolf from Blackfeather found themselves here in search of violence, it would be found. In the near-distance @Alya lurked; together there would be no stone unturned. 

They both reacted to the rattling brush the same way. Their heads drew sharply upward and their ears thrust forward. Hydra sniffed at the air, and glanced toward Alya. The look alone told her what–or who, rather–she sought: @Lyra. And so her mirror image departed; they both knew that whoever it was that caused such a ruckus was trapped. 

For her own part, she made way toward the 'trap' with long, self-assured strides. When she moved 'round the brush, she did so far enough away where hopefully she might not be seen. Bramblepoint was a familiar place to her, but she knew not how this being was ensnared and what their view was. Hydra only wanted to ascertain if this was, or was not, the very same fellow that had brought his unjust wrath to the burly Frostfur some short time ago.

July was certainly powerful enough to wrench himself free of the grasping branches and clinging burrs, but he was trying his best to escape with as much of his fur intact as he could. So far that task was proving fruitless, and as his impatience and frustration mounted at the ineffectiveness of his gentle prying, the wolf turned quickly to other tactics. Soon enough he was full-on thrashing in his attempt to fall free of the brambles, and the noise was enough to clear the area within a mile radius of any prey that might've been there.

He was severely unaware of his company, which was probably for the best; the last thing he needed was a helping of embarrassment on top of his full course struggle. July lurched free suddenly, leaving behind thick tufts of pale fur to decorate the bush like faux christmas cotton. A long, witchy branch tendril clung to his rump, as if to pull him back into the hedge, but the yearling didn't notice it as he concentrated instead on trying to reach a painfully lodged bramble buried hatefully into his left shoulder.

The noise was so loud that Hydra thought she might have come across a bear—her father had informed her that now was when they began to forage prior to their disappearance. Where they went, he was not certain. But what erupted from the foliage was a rather large wolf, white she firstly observed... her critical eye sought the tawny hues that her opponent had worn, but none were upon him. This meant that this was not the wolf she sought, and that she could move on from here. After all, she did not wish to waste time. 

She emerged from the woods, allowing her cover to fall to nothing. She gestured to his rump and advised that he be Careful, after all, the shrubbery had its fill of him as evidenced by the pale tufts waving like a banner of surrender. At the end of the day, it seemed this stranger was the victor—still, she had seen that these shrubs had a funny way of accepting defeat. Not that she would know, not on a personal level anyhow; she'd never gotten herself caught up in the brambles here before, given there was never a reason for her to sleep among them. 

Nodding to him, Hydra pivoted as though to head on her way. He did not seem like the sort of man who enjoyed to be interrupted, which she could respect—as she was the same sort of woman.

His head snapped towards her suddenly; alerted by the deliberate parting of fall foliage as a lean shadow unexpectedly revealed itself to be another wolf. July stared at her evenly, the rigidity of his body serving as the only indication he'd been surprised at all. He found her cobalt gaze in all the jet, latching onto them just as she spoke.

Careful.

His head tipped very slightly, eyes narrowing in confusion at first. A beat later he followed her gesture and saw a wicked claw of the underbrush still clinging to the thick fur above the base of his tail. A little late for careful, he thought wryly, bucking his hips sideways so that he might literally dislodge himself from one of his many poor choices in life. Three hops to the left and he was free, tail swaying in mild satisfaction as he looked up again to catch the helpful specter respectfully take her leave. July cocked his head again, and then began to follow. 

Youth, arrogance, and loneliness made for a curious wolf— and though he didn't call out to her, he made no effort to conceal the fact he had chosen to tail her. He carried with him no malice, but a warm brashness. His loose and direct stride made his exploratory intent clear: What kind of wolf are you? Are you strong or weak?

Hydra's own strides were long and purposeful as she continued on her way. One ear flicked backward to pay recognition to her follower, and then swiveled forward. The wolf was a massive one, she could hear it in every heavy plod—and with mild amusement she felt that had she not seen him, he could be mistaken for a bear. But his walk was more dignified than that, she imagined—and then she had to pause to see for herself. 

She payed him direct attention again, giving him the good old fashioned once-over from a woman that knew her great worth. Hydra knew she was strong, though her belief did not err toward arrogance. That was not to say she was humble; the princess of Moonspear knew very little of humility, if anything at all. For her age, she'd won much, beaten many, and killed more than perhaps she ought to of, living in such a peaceful valley. She was strong, and it showed in the way she held herself, though she was not so foolish as to pretend she was the strongest of them all. Hydra had much to learn, and worked on this every day. The Ostrega had enough confidence to believe it was not a matter of if, but when. 

But as he moved, she thought of him. He was entirely different than the man that typically consumed her mind. He was pale, like her father, and unkept and feral. There was certain to his roguish look that appealing to the teen; he was a sort of wild she had not seen before, though she had certainly displayed it herself. There were burrs still stuck to him, but that did little to take away from his brilliance. If anything, it added more to it somehow. 

Hydra took some measured steps in his direction, hoping to investigate him further now that her interest had been captured.

Almost immediately July surmised that this young wolf was as strong as they came. She was confident enough in own ability that she did not shy away from the encounter or threaten him with posturing— much to the vagabond's feral delight— and instead met his brazen approach with mild interest. July's tentatively wagging tail picked up its pace, and though the momentum of his steps waned the closer he came to the mountain raven, not once did he pause in his ambling approach until he had arrived within kiss-or-kill range. The snowy wolf stretched his muzzle towards hers, prepared to retract at any moment, but eager to take in everything there was to know about her; where she had been; who she ran with, if anyone; who she was.  

But that was all mechanical. The only thing truly passing his thoughts was that he could feel a persistent nagging of the skindeep bramble he hadn't been able to reach, grinding at his shoulder every move he made.

He did not shy from her, and her own tail began to wave at that. She permitted his nearness, though was semi-guarded; she was wary and mistrustful of all, given what had happened to Rannoch, but knew how to swiftly disengage if she needed to. Hydra drifted alongside him, her muzzle moving to hover before the very shoulder that was inflicted with the burr. Her keen eye caught the interruption in the pattern of his fur, though thought this might be due to a scar. For a moment she contemplated burying her face into the strongly rounded thing, just to get a true feel of him, but she ignored that temptation then. 

Hydra's nostrils flared as she drank in his scent. She gathered he was alone, and as young as she, and healthy. He smelled of the wilds as surely as she smelled of the mountains, and she wondered for the first time what it must be like out there.

He didn't have to think about their little introductory tango as it went. Their noses danced back and forth at first, testing the waters in swift dips so as to ascertain whether or not the use of teeth was necessary. Unless food was involved, July wasn't the type to start a fight while he stood as a lone wolf; when all he had was his own set of jaws. She moved to explore him further, and the male angled the rest of himself laterally so that she might have access to the entire buffet.

July sniffed about too, finding the tale of her mountain and her family emblazoned upon her pelt like a suit stitched to her skin. It was all she was, all she had ever been— what was she like without them? July was still unpacking this question for himself, but he had rather quickly come into his own the further he'd gone into the wild on his involuntary bachelorship. So far, he was finding himself to be largely dispassionate and unpredictable, but he supposed that came from having nothing to protect but his own skin...

Skin that twitched as the she-wolf's nostrils stirred the guard hairs of his burdened shoulder. He swung his muzzle as if to stop her, clearly sensitive to the area, but he wound up only looking at her— eliciting a short, groaning whine— before deciding very quickly to risk it. "If you wouldn't mind," he said pointedly, the skin of his shoulder twitching again as if feeling the pinch of a tick. Feels like the buttnuzzle of a bee, lady, help me out.

Hydra had never thought about what she would be, without her family. Probably a feral, savage thing; she loved her mirror images and her parents both, and they were perhaps what kept her anchored and stable. They were all that was, and all that ever would be at this point in her life. Never had Hydra been given a reason to think of drifting; she was still growing there, and learning, and well-respected to boot. Having never been given a reason to so much as humor it, it had not even crossed her mind. Hydra was a woman who fulfilled things when she wanted to, and 'might have been' is not something she typically pondered. 

Even as she wondered about the world beyond Moonspear, she did not feel a personal desire to partake in it and no longer be a part of her pack. Her earthly attachments were many, and her family was certainly her dearest of possessions. 

But she wondered what he was like, when of a pack. He was large now, and relatively filled out. When well-fed how did he appear? When emboldened by status, and territory, how did he behave? All these things she wondered as she looked him over and went through the feral motions, a comforting even for her. Though she could be declared as talkative by some, she was not the most verbose when words were not necessary. Here and now she was content with their mutually shared silence, and even enjoyed it. 

As her muzzle grazed near his shoulder he reacted, and her ears pulled back a measure, uncertain if she had wronged him; but it seemed this was not the case, and as he requested a favor of her Hydra's eyes returned to the spot he spoke of, knowing it only due to the twitch she had spotted then and there. Her eyes found the very same spot they had noted before, and Hydra was able to nose into his furs and find the very thing that burdened him. 

She wondered what might be best. To tease the thing out, or to take it swiftly. After some gentle nibbling, and dislodging the worst of it, Hydra pulled sharply and removed it from him. There were few hairs of his upon the thing to show for it, and pleased with her handiwork Hydra shook the thing from her lips and asked in playful tone, All better?