Neverwinter Forest a distant land caused me to linger

Persistent snowfall ushered him into the heavy wood, the allure of some tantalizing morsel on his mind. The forest would provide the cover he deemed necessary, the early evening not quite turned bitter cold. At least here the wind would have a buffer; no more errant powder snow to smack his face and crystallize there, he'd had enough of that to last a while. But it was also here that he hoped the snow would not be as packed as it had in the open plain, that perhaps there would be something to unearth—figuratively—from whatever icy tomb had sealed it away. Bones would have been nice, but at any rate Dirge would have settled for scraps of sinew turned into frozen jerky.

He had been lucky in that morning to snag a grouse, but it had done little to stay a hunger that had been around for days. His stomach had twisted into knots over roaming bands of ungulates and the energy he expended some hours ago over irritable ravens had not returned with rest. Not that he had much in the department of rest and relaxation either—winter was a hard season. The luxuries he had before were knowingly absent, not that he would have traded another day of derisive treatment for this. He had always gone about things the hard way and well, that wasn't about to change here either.

As he slid beneath the low boughs of an evergreen, he sighed, overtaken by a weariness that waxed and waned as it pleased. Even the snow was cumbersome to deal with at times, the only reprieve being the very boughs he snaked to and from in a disorderly path. He rooted about the base of this one, winding around its broad trunk as though he would stir something from what snow had drifted beneath it. The temptation to settle down for a bit was there, but hunger still remained the primary concern. Rest could wait, he decided.

Hydra would range less and less from Moonspear as the snowfall became greater, though she knew there was one grand journey she had left to take before winter truly struck. She ranged toward Bramblewood to check on the status of this mission, and her sisters lurked (seeming as one long shadow) behind her, on either flank. When they neared the woods, Hydra's ear flicked in a way that caused them to disperse. They would search the place for their potential enemy on the perimeter as Hydra moved through its depths. The three of them were only passing through, but were not ones to leave any snow-laden log uninvestigated.

The sound of rustling in an anotherwise muted forest was amplified by the snow that had settled on this ground. Her ears pricked and Hydra lowered her head to the earth to suss out any familiar scents. None. Enemy and friend alike had not passed through this area in recent times, though she was no less on guard as she made her way toward the source of the sound. Just because she did not smell them there did not mean they had not utilized another of the forests pathways, and Hydra always decided to land on this train of thought as she wandered through territories not her own. Better to be safe than sorry.

Her own footfalls were light as she moved as stealthily as possible to come upon the other. She was working on becoming an adept stalker and tracker, both. When she came across the wolf rooting in the snow she knew immediately it was not the enemy she sought, and so she relaxed significantly—albeit not entirely—and loosed a chuff to alert him of her presence so he would not be startled by her coming upon him. He looked busy, and Hydra elected not to distract him—she had a place to be herself, after all. And so she did not cease in her movements as she altered her course to move past the tree he inspected.

He had rounded the tree once when a shadowy figure streaked by, not at all hindered by the snow. Her passing greeting reached him just in time to avoid startling him, though the disconnect between sight and sound was enough to pique his interest. Whoever it was, they seemed intent on blazing a trail to somewhere, and that was enough to give him pause for a spell. Dirge lingered there for only a few seconds more, until the sound of her hushed footfalls were gone, and then slipped from the cover of the evergreen to investigate.

For as lithe and dark as the figure was, the steps that they left were anything but. It was near impossible for creatures such as they to forge a path through powered snow and not leave a trace—less so with the night—but with the way that the snow came down it would have been a matter of time until such a path was lost. He followed after her leisurely; there was no need for haste that would find him trouble, especially when he neither needed it nor had the energy to go working himself out of it.

But generally... if someone was going somewhere at that rate of speed, they were after something. He hoped that something was in the form of a meal that would be left over in time. Or if it was a hunt, then maybe a little game was afoot to be had, at least until he was chased away. This thought, along with the sudden turn of events was enough to have him forego the damned lack of energy.

It did not take her long to realize she was being followed. Had he attempted to hide that intent, he would have been met with aggression—after all, one seeking to mask their presence could not mean well. Her mother and father had taught her that, and Hydra took their lessons to heart. With one ear cupped backward to listen for him, Hydra again altered her course if only to confirm her suspicions.

Hydra could not be discreet herself in appearance with the way the snow was now beginning to fall. Her dark hide would give her away eventually, even if nothing else would, while she moved. But she was not attempting to remain hidden from his line of sight. The yearling only wanted to know for certain what it was this stranger was doing—moving on from this territory, or following.

She slowed before pausing near a tree, sniffing at it. But her attention was not at all on the tree, though it looked it. One ear remained attentive to the world around her, even as the other flicked off a snowflake in reflex, one that had landed on the tip of her ear but had melted before the action could do anything about it.

The course weaved here and there, the path becoming muddied through the tangled forest. The stirring snow and wind didn't help either, but the path remained visible in low light. Dirge listened for sounds ahead, wondering if there would be any indication that his following would turn up something, but heard no immediate signs of a scuffle. No cries of some prey being twisted apart, no growls or calls that suggested the hunt was on.

Instead what he found through a dip in the trees was the dark-haired slyph lingering. Or maybe she was lying in wait. He paused, taking study of her actions openly because there was no good place to hide, no wise decision that would conceal that he was interested in what she was doing. There waan't even another path that screamed open to let him pass without disturbing her either... he'd been led in a waking stupor precisely where she wanted him.

It was a slow set of moments that dawned this on him, and his eyes alighted on her once more with a slow forming smile. If he had no other choices than to go with the flow, then he would go with the flow.

"It doesn't taste or look half as appealing," he opened with, picking up his feet to join her. "The tree, that is. Now the birds in it... well, assuming they can be caught..." now those, he did not add, were in fact delicious. The proper ones. None of that tiny songbird appetizer nonsense.

Ah, there he was, and thus her imaginings were confirmed. And he even seemed to recognize what she had done herself, which meant he was a perceptive wolf. When he began to close the distance, Hydra lifted her head from the tree to observe him head on. No? She inquired, swinging her face toward the tree again as she took a step backward to give it a better looked. Exhaling a sigh, Hydra spoke again, looked back to the tawny male, Well, it smelled nice—that was what brought me here, she teased, a grin coming onto her own features. They both knew that wasn't true, didn't they?

She shifted, moving to face him. Getting a good look at him, Hydra could see he was handsome. For one reason or another, she had always preferred tawny men to any other... and this one, he intrigued her. He was bold, obviously—he was not ashamed to be caught, but rather embraced it. If Hydra knew anything, it was that fortune favored the likes of them more than any other.

What brought you? Hydra asked, and although she thought she knew she was not one to assume. The narcissist in her knew that she herself of course did, but would he admit it? Her blue eyes held onto his frame, his build speaking to what she imagined he excelled in. He was not as lean as she, but he looked like as much the part of the runner as he did a wolf who assisted in the actual takedown during the hunt.

Perhaps she was a viper, poised and ready to strike. There may have been a spark of something else that rippled across her countenance, maybe something simple in the way she coiled back to look at the monolithic height of the tree. But he little in the way of doubt that she was a viper, if only for the directness of her dialogue. Her question was pointed, the subtle nuances not lost on him as he continued to appraise her at arm's length. It was hardly the sticky stench of sap or crisp pine that had her running through the old wood.

"You, of course," came his fluid reply, and the smile remained. "But intentionally, I just wanted somewhere out of the wind. A bite to eat, perhaps." He wouldn't grant her a veiled response; there was no point in drawing out venom if he could charm. He risked a look away to their frosty surroundings, how picturesque they would have been had he been appraising it than her. Even now, the snow offered a heavy blanket of near silence.

"Seems I've accomplished the former," he went on to say as his attention wheeled back to her. "And you're certainly not the scavenging type, at least not to be foraging tree bark in the snow." She could have been a hunter, that much he would have wagered a guess on. But hunters often did not go alone or without. If the heady scent of the wilds were on her, he'd thought her like him. But this too, was not the case.

You, of course, and Hydra thrilled at this—he had appropriately fed her ego, and Hydra was quite pleased by this. It was not too difficult to appease Hydra, but it was difficult to impress her. He was on his way; he was as direct as she, and in finding so very few like this in her lifetime (short though it was) Hydra was more than content to be in his presence. His smile caused the rogue to look all the more handsome—he was wild, unkempt, and Hydra wondered if he was as strong as he appeared.

She admired his profile as he turned to look around them, sharp and savage. Perhaps one of the most disarming things about Hydra was how soft she could look in contrast to how hard she was. The inky daughters of Charon and Amekaze had proven themselves to each be more than a pretty face, but strangers in the wilds were none-the-wiser to this. Of course, this did not account for what he had already noted—her quick wit and intelligence. It added a certain sort of severity to her that she never bothered to hide unless her intentions were to conceal, but she had no such designs as this here and now.

Indeed, Hydra observed the obvious, and supplied him with the information he knew: pickings are growing slimmer in these wilds. The herds have begun their migrations, Hydra shifted her weight. As he did not waste her time, she did not waste his. That being said, it was clear by her own healthy physique that pack-wolves were unaffected by their absence from these territories. They had plenty of food on their own. You look as though you need more than a rabbit or two to satisfy your hunger, and it was not because he was slim. The opposite. Were he slim, perhaps he might be able to get away with just that and be content to be on his own for a while longer yet.

As for his next observation, her eyes flashed and she found herself grinning. She need not ask how he might even think this. No wolf in their right mind would forage for tree bark. She scoffed nonetheless, I might have found something, just as you may have in your tree, but she shook her head with a grin. I was foraging for your intentions. I wanted to see why it was you followed, and with her own mission accomplished, Hydra went on to say: but if you mean to ask why I have come to this forest from my packlands, it is because I have offered our neighboring pack assistance in dispatching a mutual enemy of ours. He has been around these parts before—I like to make sure he has not come around a second time, Hydra wondered what he might make of this and of her both, now that he knew what had driven her to her own actions.

He almost had a witty rejoinder, until she spilled why she had been there in the first place. To say it intrigued him would have only been half-true. Dirge had no taste for getting caught up in the affairs of others, let alone invest in making problems of his own. But he did know the world to be an unexpectedly cruel place, moreso when there happened to be more mouths and bodies around. To think, to his grandfather—how he didn't think of him so—he could have fit this bill. The unwanted, the nuisance; the list poured on and on until it all bled together and thoughts turned from words into actions. That said, it was also not his place to judge. Instead Dirge made a noncommittal sound, his expression turning to slight surprise.

"And here I thought you were just hunting wild hare." Her quarry was definitely larger than that. It would certainly have more fight in it, that much was for certain. How bothersome. "But you were right about needing more than a hare or two. A good meal would be decent, add somewhere warm to bed down," he trailed here, "and I suppose good company would make a start. Maybe a bath too," though that wasn't so high on his list—cold water in his undercoat would turn him popsicle in this weather. He kept things jovial, nonplussed that she wasn't exactly rushing headlong to some bull elk with a bum leg so he could pick the bones clean. Dirge still hadn't resorted to cannibalism yet, though the summery little Mouse hadn't been seen again.

He shook his head, words once again finding a void to fill.

"Those luxuries I have missed, I suppose. It will probably be another evening of tree bark and bones for me." And how much easier it was to find humor in the act that he was lawless and free, or as she had thought, wild.

Hydra grinned wolfishly at his response: It would take more than that to satisfy me, speaking in reference to what she had thought of him earlier. A plume of her breath seemed to roll around the words as they lingered, her eyes holding fast to him—though she spoke not at all of cannibalism, just of her palettes preference. Neither did she even mean her own immediate prey, that pale wolf with unfeeling blue eyes. A hare could never do, except for a snack. Hydra was a woman who could eat, and as the Beta of the pack she ate perfectly well. She was no slim waif.

He spoke of things he longed for, and though her company could fill one of those voids for a time it would not solve the rest of his desires. How much do you miss those luxuries? She asked with a tilt of her head—enough to join a pack? Just as he had identified she ran with others, she had identified he did not. Tree bark and secondhand bones hardly sound appetizing, Hydra ventured. But she would not know. She had never endured the hardships of a loner. She did not desire to, either. She still had her freedom, even with being a packwolf—though perhaps a different sort than his own.

He had no doubt that more than a mere hare or the desire of luxury would satisfy her. She seemed to be every ounce of independent, and after all that all things were form and function. Dirge could not fault any particular one for being that way either. It was simply how they were, catering to all needs on a primal level. So when her dialogue turned to that of inquiry, he once more had no surprise cross his features. There were benefits that outweighed his current situation, loathe as may be to invest in something.

"Hmm," he appraised. "Secondhand bones do have their perks, but nothing beats a chance for something fresh." Of course, would it be worth enduring the company of others? It wasn't so much that as it was his intentions, snd that intent he decided to make clear. "But would a pack truly have room for someone for just the winter? I may be easy to satisfy but I don't make promises I can't keep. I like my freedom." It was his turn to have a wolfish smile; he wouldn't make himself out to be something he wasn't. It wasn't proper, and it certainly was not a thing to do to a lady.

"Of course, should your own have room... quid pro quo and the like," he went on upon exhale, nonchalant. It was the quicker way of yes, he'd earn his keep. He'd contribute, so on and so forth. "What I can promise is that I aim not to disappoint... and you don't seem disappointed so far." She hadn't but his face off or snared him any more than their chance meeting... in fact she seemed to serve the decent company of his bill.

He was right, of course—nothing did beat that when one was hungry. Bones were a delicacy she could enjoy, but not one she ever devoured out of necessity. The marrow was the point of it all after all, and there wasn't too much to that that would make Hydra prefer bone to anything else. He spoke of enjoying his freedom, and Hydra tilted her head. What pack have you belonged to that restricted your freedom? She inquires, As long as you carry your weight, I would think you would be welcome, and Hydra had designs to make that for the rest of his life, not that he would know it. He, of all the wolves she had met in the wilds, interested her most of all. So much so that she was prepared to invite him home here and now.

Hydra's plume waved as he spoke again. You'll have to do more than aim, stranger, shooters shoot, though yes, I would agree—you have yet to disappoint, and she did not expect him to. I am Hydra, Beta of Moonspear—the mountain pack—you are?

Hydra. Suddenly the viper imagery made all the more sense, and with the way Moonspear had come rolling off—the very spark of something else he had felt—things fell remarkably into place. It was not only others that were inhertantly cruel, but the gods themselves. They surely must have jested tonight, though thus he kept to himself and left to linger at the back of his mind for another time. For sleep, even. It had not even been days ago he had been eyeing that monolithic structure of staggering mountains, wondering of the links he missed some odd few weeks ago. Bitterly wondering of them, his memory suuplied.

He glossed over where it was that he came from—it didn't matter. It had not been a home so much as a prolonged stay over until he had been raised and capable enough of forging his own destiny. That destiny, it seemed, was locked in a wrestling match if its own, but whether it was been head and heart or the gods reclaiming what was there was anyone's guess.

"It's Dirge," he offered in return, "and you can rest assured that I am capable of carrying my own weight. And conversation, if nothing else." He had done at least that much thus far, barring the obvious sign that he had survived long enough to have made it into winter. Beyond that though, he hadn't entirely figured out the workings of how this nonsense was supposed to go either. She'd made the offer and seemed to tentatively accept his proposal... but now what?

"Should I swear my fealty to you or some such? Or is that reserved for your superior?" If there was an option, he'd rather be her. No telling what the other looked like—he didn't entirely recall who it was in spite of knowing his name and having met him once—and frankly, she was far easier on the eyes than a mystery.

Dirge. It was somehow a fitting name for him. She grinned at his inquiry. Me, and two others. Amekaze and Charon—the two leaders, and my parents, Hydra informed transparently. It meant that her words among them had enough weight that he should feel relatively confident in his future place among them. Truth be told, her father might even be appreciative of the prospect of him leaving in the Summer—by then, more cubs would surely be along and her siblings would be adults as well. And better he to fill their ranks in the meantime than dead weight. 

Not that she had any intent of letting him depart. Hydra would sooner chase of Liffey than see him go. Rouge, too. 

There would be room for this man, so long as he continued to appease her ego and look good while doing it, not to mention carry his weight in general. Even if Hydra were aware of their relation, she would assume it to be distant thus making him fair game. And she would also understand where his good looks came from—the Ostrega's won the lottery in their gene pool, each one more attractive than the next. 

Come, let's get the alphas a gift, shall we? You'll look better, Hydra's tail swept behind her and with a grin, she added, not that you really need any help there. Hydra's own flirtatiousness was more direct than that of Alya's, but Hydra decided that if she were ever to get the sort of wolf she desired then they ought to be able to handle her.

In the next round of their discourse, he found a familiar name rising up again. Charon. He remembered the bloke well enough, lightly colored and speckled, fascination with the stars. Their paths had crossed briefly, the link between them—and now Hydra—laid bare; a tied off part of his paternal family that he did not know, nor hardly claim. It had been the very thread that had wound around him here though he did not entirely acknowledge it, and once more it dangled enough to loop him into whatever this was turning out to be. He pulled at it all the same, wondering what would unravel. It went with how he had been living, reflecting on the same point that had sealed his fate here today: go with the flow.

He let breathy scoff escape him as Hydra suggested hunting would make him look better, not that he needed it. For as lascivious as he could be, it was not often he found complimentary responses, or forwardness out of the fairer sex. If anything, the commentary betrayed his inclinations of modesty and beneath it, respect. But it certainly made most uncomfortable, as Ostregas were keenly arrogant in some approaches. Somehow, it suited her as it suited him.

"You make it sound like you'll have to show me off," he replied as he came alongside her. "But if a meal saves me from having to grovel and beg, fair enough. I'll have you know I'm rather terrible at grovelling." A knavish smile split his features, and then it was on to the task at hand. "Since you clearly make your rounds here, I'd believe you know where to go looking for offerings." He expected she would want to lead, and the role of the lech in him would admire the view.

As he came alongside her, Hydra let her thoughts wander far ahead of where they stood as to what they might look like together. He a strong, strapping male and she a beautiful, femme fatale—oh, unquestionably they would look brilliant. But her mind came back to the present, where his frame needed to fill out some prior to her fantasy image taking true shape. She was a teenager with an appreciation for the finer things, and he had become one of them. 

Oh, are you? Good; we aren't a fan of beggars or grovellers, she hummed, but we certainly appreciate wolves that can hunt well, that much was obvious—any wolf pack should—and with Winter coming, that was pretty much an essential thing to join them. And sure, many could come to their borders and say it, but showing it? He would be the one who stood out among all others, she envisioned. But his knavish smile was not missed—Hydra would eventually come to ask him if he might like to practice grovelling on her, just so she could confirm or perhaps change her perspective on the matter. Something about that expression caused her stomach to twist in an interesting manner she had yet to experience, but wanted to feel again. 

As for offerings? Of course I do, she said confidently. And it was true! But I think I'd like to see for myself what you can do, Hydra added. She was ever the woman who would take the leadership reins when given to her, but she did want to see him in action. To confirm her suspicions that he might be the very sort of man that could run with her, someday, rather than beneath. One little hunt, the beginnings of something wonderful. Her motivations were entirely selfish, but she also knew in the longrun that they would serve Dirge plenty well.

Any hope he had of her leading the way was dashed to bits by her tongue. She wanted to assess him, though given the nature of their banter, it was probably more that she was the lech here. He had no "honest" intention to hide behind, but her? It was questionable at best. It amused him and he showed it with merriment clear in his gaze, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Very well, Princess," he said, taking the lead—or alternatively, preparing to run if his mouth got him trouble, "I do appreciate someone who can recognize a leading wolf." The latter sounded more like a thought spoken aloud, but it too was intentional.

Beyond their veiled cover, nothing more had changed but the passing of a few minutes. The evening was still dark, the air still cold, and the snow was still coming down through the heavy boughs. Dirge spared a moment to internally curse at the conditions; Hydra's desire to assess his skill could not have come at a more difficult time. Hare may have been out of the question... but finding a grouse may not have been.

Hesitation, if there was any, did not turn up in the way he set off. He had no qualms about flying blind as it were, instead seeking out a likely place where the snowy game may have settled in for the night. At least here in the forest, if any were to take alarm to them, they'd be caught easily; the trees would bar a fair amount of exciteable gliding away for any length.

"I hope they like bird," he commented.

Princess. 

Some might be bothered by the nickname, but Hydra embraced it. After all, she was, and she wore the title well. And just because she was a princess certainly hadn't stopped her from accomplishing everything she had in her life. Her kill count remained unaffected by her precocious title, and her vanity was amplified—if it worked, it worked. And Hydra worked it, too. She knew perfectly well what her title meant, and she also seemed to understand she was the heir apparent. Ambitious though she was, she had no intent to usurp her parents (hormones raged for different reasons, at present, as everything sorted itself out). She understood the appeal of her own position to others—she came from two strong wolves and was born exceptional herself. What was not to be desired? 

She assumed the same of this dispersal. I mean, look at him, she thought to herself, feeling quite proud of her find. And what he said next? Oh, he was good—a leading wolf! Hydra moved to (attempt to) nip his flank fiendishly, teeth gentle, before asking, Leading wolf, you say—so, you're experienced in that domain? Her eyes flashed. His intent was well-aimed when it was fired toward Hydra, who very much so wanted to believe it, or at least see it be done someday. Inception? Hydra was good at it herself, or is it a part of your 'grand plan'? 

If he hesitated, even the perceptive Hydra did not note it. Granted, she was distracted by him, but she knew enough when a wolf was not adept at something they claimed to be. In any case, he was able to get back on his feet again (so to speak) and at his words, Hydra knew he must be decent at hunting to know the pickings were slimmer than they would be were the sun to be out. Lucky for you, they don't discriminate, she responded, and it was true. Her parents were like her in that regard: meat was meat, and they wouldn't deny any of it. Though they did have their favorite things, Hydra also knew that her parents despised brown-nosers—at least the ones they didn't know. It was lame.

But, I mean, once you knew them, it was fine. After all, who didn't like their favored delicacy delivered?

They didn't discriminate, and that was good for them. No one really could in the winter, he thought, though packs got the more fair end of the stick so to speak. This was his first winter entirely alone and as he learned, he could only lust over the flavorful big game, rather than sink his teeth into them. Smaller prey had made do, though he also found them elusive and with the robust number of so called free agents roaming, even those opportunities were slimming down.

"Well I don't kiss and tell," he said when she inquired to a snippet of his past, "but I think it seems a fitting title." He had never been a leader in the conventional sense. Pig-headed and observant, sure, he had led his sisters about on their half-year long adventure, but they hardly counted as a pack altogether. A ragtag trio of dispersals, often trading witty remarks about each other as they would have others. It was probably a blessing in disguise they weren't here now, as surely one of them would have walloped him for his choice of words. His tail may have come off from errant tugging and his ribs caved from elbows as well.

"But I always have a plan... and in this case I do think we may be able to scare up some grouse. Know any good pockets of brambles and the like? Better we find them together before the snow buries them whole." She may have wanted to assess him, but he wasn't about to fly off the handle and lead them to gods know where. A good lead always had a support.

post 700 4 her PERFECT STRANGER.

No kissing and telling. Clever. What a shame, she lamented, though the ever-flirty Hydra said cheekily: I suppose that might work out for me, though, Hydra was quick to remain coy and retained her ladylike demeanor by adding: I do like a man of mystery, lest he think gaining a kiss from her was an easy feat. Let him wonder, too; he could know of her apparent interest, as it seemed, to the vain Hydra, a mutual thing. And anyway, she could see for herself just how fitting a title it was. 

She nodded at his next question. She knew the woods well enough to assist, and saw the snowfall for herself to understand the truth of his words. It'd do neither of them any good to waste their time. So Hydra drifted a pace ahead, steering him with her shoulder in the direction they ought to go. Not too far ahead of us, that way, she gestured. You'll see them soon, they were about a hundred feet away now—but for them, that was nothing.

She slipped ahead of him then, momentarily taking the lead and offering him a chance to let talk of the past slip away. It was on to business now, and when the underbrush became clear—or at least as clear as it could—Dirge resumed his pace ahead of her. He let silence lapse between them as he studied the undergrowth, tucked not so neatly into the twisting roots and rising trunks of the immediate forest. It wasn't the most opportune place he would have picked, but hunting grouse was rarely a sport. Especially when he fekt it reignite the hunger he had been putting off.

But whatever surge was weariness that followed it was ignored as well. He knew he had to push through it, if only to keep his reputation intact. It wouldn't have been like him to not deliver on a promise, even of he was blowing hot air to someone's sails. There was more on the line here than his ego too; survival hinged on this.

Whether or not Hydra would stay behind to watch or participate mattered not to him as he snaked onward, first giving the pocketed area a wide berth to figure out it's intricacies. If there were thorns—and he was certain there were—he wasn't about to potentially skewer an eye or foot on them. His circle wound tighter as he came around, jaws parting in anticipation that eventually a weary bird would go on alarm and spring.

congrats!!

Hydra was content to be the observer as he pulled to the lead once more. She was interested in his methods—she did not frequently hunt bird, and when she did they typically were on the ground. His fare was a bit more difficult than that, but it only made him look better. He knew how to survive; he had to of, considering he had gotten this far. 

She would not participate yet, but she would join in if the opportunity presented itself. The thrill of the hunt was a contagious thing, and mutely she shifted her weight, jaws parted in anticipation. Her ears were pricked forward, her attention focused on what Dirge closed in on at present, and also on Dirge himself.

There was a rustle... and then nothing.

At least that was how it seemed at first. Dirge had paused, poised and ready to spring. But the grouse didn't come out, at least not on it's own. It shot into the sky suddenly and with such force that the shrub it hid in shook violently. At its heels, sprang a long weasel. His gaze almost stayed on the bird a second too long before he went to snap the mink, instead following the long-bodied weasel down into the mess of sharp sticks and probable thorns. It's cries overshadowed the scattering of two other grouse, no doubt scared half a neighborhood of other beasts, and it writhed wildly until Dirge gave it a fair shake.

The snap of its spine was enough to stop it cold, but it was far from dead. The death came from how he removed himself from the shrubs, unquestionably rendering the limp creature through a further assault that hopefully left it stone dead. He cast it aside as though it were worthless, more steamed that it had thought itself clever enough to ruin his chance. In truth that was only the half of it—minks had a particular smell. That one tasted, well, fishy. The irony, or lack thereof, was that it had been eating some before.

But as for the grouse...? He sought out Hydra then.

The commotion was mighty. 

But Hydra was poised, and her eyes were blessedly on the prize. As though she had been told to fetch, Hydra launched toward the grouse when it lowered, and the noises it made as it realized belatedly it had not evaded death after all were godawful. She snapped the thing from midair and though the thing struggled, its death was swifter than the weasels. Hydra gave it a savage shake, and that was that. 

The world around her was a mess of feathers, blood, and snow, and Hydra glanced toward Dirge with a broad grin. He was a mess, though, but he had a sizable prize of his own. She dropped the grouse and made her way toward him, observing the burrs that had caught to him. Hm, you really need a bath now, she observed, nearing his shoulder. Is that you, or that? She caught the fishy smell, too, and snickered, but gestured toward his shoulder, at a burr likely out of his reach. Maybe it wasn't, but it'd be a painful thing to fall onto later. She offered her assistance with a quick look from burr to golden eyes, her tail waving. Feathers were still falling around them, and the grouse still within the shrubbery lingered uneasily but did not dare move.

The grouse had been dispatched with but the time he spied her out, not at all far from where she had remained. By then she was coming to meet him, a remark steafast on her lips as they gave each other once overs. She had obviously gotten the better deal, or at least he thought so, but didn't seem any worse for wear. Certainly not as reeling from surprise in their recent turn of events, though even that was faded now.

As she gestured to the burr with her snout, he craned his head to see. It was out of reach and with a relenting sigh he nodded. She would have the honors, and at least it wasn't lodged too inconveniently, nor tucked and tangled in the heavy coat of winter he sported.

"Damned things, there's always one," he said, wagering there was probably more than one. "Better there than my feet." For once, he was as pain-free as he possibly could be. Travel had done its share of wearing him down and it showed, but at least he was in decent enough shape to keep on going.

"And at least you got the bird. Beats the weasel, though it's tender. He had a good summer." And barring the obvious musk, wouldn't make a bad offering either.