Wild Berry Meadow she the full moon, he the werewolf

@Wintersbane

 

@Alya rested in the backdrop as @Lyra investigated the shrubbery, Hydra at her side. They had been here for some time, and already Lyra had collected many a beneficial berry to return with her. How they were to do that was yet to be discovered, but Hydra would assist if she were asked to. Lyra had inquired that they stay for a day or two, and now, Hydra observed her sister who in turn observed some woodland critter. Lyra had set out many berries, and she watched which the critter took, and which was left behind. "Must be poisonous," her sister wisely deduced. Hydra hmm'd at that thought, and the tactician mind within spoke, and Hydra thought it a clever idea. 

Gather many of them, we will see, she decided. 

---

 

Hours passed, and now, the moon beamed overhead. Hydra smelled of the stuff, and Lyra, too; Hydra had convinced Alya to roll in it as well. Were it toxic, would it not dissuade animals to think twice about attacking? Hydra moved toward a creek as Lyra and Alya spoke amongst themselves, her head turning toward the Woods. The other day, with Sebastian, when they had passed she thought she had scented a familiar scent... as they moved around it, Hydra had been fairly certain of it. The Master Warrior had a knack for knowing a scent, but she wanted to have no doubt of it. 

At length, Hydra shook out her furs. The sweet scent of berry clung to her still, and no doubt its contents did as well. That was fine, given their adversaries apparent knowledge on the stuff. If she was not met with who she desired to see, then she might be actively avoided. That would be for the best, she supposed. Hydra approached the woods, though still kept her distance. From here she could see the skulls that were placed pointedly there. Not many, she did not think. No, she and her sisters had gathered more at their keep... they were not for show and tell, but for themselves. It kept their teeth sharp. 

Drogon would remember. Her gaze stared through the shadows of the darkwood, as though she expected their penetrating gaze and her presence to summon him.

something stirred wintersbane out of his slumber. a feeling. a whisper from mephala or sithis ...he is not sure who. it is gone as quick as it rouses him to consciousness and he sets to the borders without delay on an instinct, shaking the last vestiges of slumber from himself as he traverses through the dark woods, his pace slowing only as he draws nearer, the a sickly sweet scent of berries wafting his way, mixed as it is with an all-too-familiar pack scent. moonspear. he has tried his best to avoid detection, on the off chance that charon cared enough to brand him a traitor. he didn't want trouble with them, and he certainly didn't want them to become trouble for blackfeather.

he shrugs past the trees, paws stopping short of a skull, glacial gaze settling upon the cerberus. hydra, at it's point. the gamma's head rose studious and stalwart. cerberus, he rumbles a collective greeting before his gaze turns to rest upon hydra in full. it is her he addresses. why have you come here? wintersbane inquires unable to quell the assumption that their presence here is for him.

Her sisters flank her mutely, and their gaze mirrors hers. From the woods, he comes, and Hydra's expression shifts into one of delight. He had once detested this place, she thought; she had been wrong, and she wondered at his shift of opinion. Perhaps it was the man they had once hated together that caused his feelings... she had not caught wind of him here. Hydra hated him no more, however. Any enemy of her enemy was now considered a friend. It was not that she considered Rannoch an enemy, but that he felt such a way in regards to her; vapid, dense boy. His fool mind would get him killed, someday. 

His husky voice fills the air, and Hydra recalls, briefly, Vela's interest in him. Were she not certain that the freckled girl would give him her own piece of mind should she find him (when she found him), her reception of him would be sour. As it was, Hydra had no bone to pick with him; she had understood that his stay was to fulfill a duty to her, and he had been more than willing to do so. He had played his part perfectly, and now he had returned to the place he had been prepared to betray. 

Hydra had no reason to betray Drogon, though, and the smile she offered him was neither cruel nor cold. I wanted to see for myself if it were true—your return to this place, she admitted, drawing near to him, no sign of impending violence upon her person. Her nose would seek to drift over his furs, inspecting, should he permit that proximity, though before the distance was bridged entirely she admitted: I was disappointed you left without a farewell... though she supposed she understood. He likely did not wish to respond to the diatribe of Vela, or perhaps he thought he might have incurred her own wrath—but the lack of anger in her tone suggested her lack of surprise that he had left at all, to begin with.

wintersbane finds himself utterly disarmed as hydra greets him with an expression of delight. it's not what he was expecting — not in the slightest. perplexity flits across his expression like the flutter of a hummingbird's attention span: very briefly before he smooths it. he's come to expect the worst of the world and had admittedly anticipated something much colder. even so, he couldn't quite shake the uncertainty that lingers in the terse line of his lips; despite the curious perk of his ears and twitch of his tail against his hocks.

he watches as she draws nearer to him, offering him an answer to his question. she sought to see if it was true and he gives a sage nod of acknowledgement, figuring there was no need for him to verbally confirm it and risk redundancy. she could see for herself that it was, indeed, true. he allows her within close proximity, glacial gaze trained upon her as her nose drifts through his fur, contemplating her words of disappointment in the fact that he did not give a farewell. he tenses, but displays his trust towards her by allowing her this closeness.

he'd been her apprentice once. perhaps, even, they'd been friends. he wished her nor her family no ill will and did not wish to see bad blood between him and her on an individual level.

i shouldn't have left as i did. he admits, perhaps apologetically but offers no excuse for his behavior all the same. he hadn't wanted to be talked out of it, nor had he wanted to fight with vela over it. leaving her hanging and without an explanation was regrettable ( and far from gentlemanly you scoundrel, tori huffs ) but this was how the tundrian operated. he didn't give goodbyes. he just ...left.

ghosted.

he was good at that; had himself convinced that it was easier for everyone that way.

His admittance is acknowledged with a low-throatted sound that indicated she agreed, but there was nothing to be done for it. He had, and now what? He was here, of all places. She did recall his fascination with their ways, but he had despised the pale-coated man she had throttled to the degree that caused him to quit them altogether. She caught no sign of him, as Drogon let her near, but there was something else she caught upon his furs. Her reaction was noted only by her sisters, who looked into the woods rather than at them. 

Hydra withdrew, neither angry or hateful toward him. But there was a storm in her eyes, and her voice was a thunderclap as she spoke the word: Titmouse. She would know it anywhere. But it was not at all the scent she expected—he was meant to be dead. But here was proof that he lived still. Would he know the name? Would he react to it? 

Would he bring him to her?

hydra speaks no more on the subject of his departure from moonspear and wintersbane is eager to let die. the past was the past and even if given the chance there is a stone-cold acknowledgement within wintersbane that he wouldn't change it. wintersbane is happy where he is and despite that the future of many things hangs in the balance ( when doesn't it? ) he enjoys knowing that his future is his for the making ...or the taking. whichever comes first. she withdraws and there is a storm in her eyes that had not been there mere moments ago.

titmouse, her voice like a quake in the earth. he is reminded of why a younger version of himself was smitten with her.

wintersbane had a thing for older, powerful women. quite apparently, at that.

unfortunately, the name titmouse is not a name he's ever heard in association with the one she seeks; and if she searches his gaze she will not find recognition there. i know none by that name. wintersbane tells her simply, albeit truthfully, giving a small, bird-like cant of his head as his glacial gaze observes her.

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191 words

Perhaps not, she answers swiftly. He goes by many. Screech, Tit, Mouse, any of those derivatives—I imagine I could not know them all. I can respect a chameleon; I cannot respect a coward. He fled the corpse of Galaxy when she was a cub, my younger sister. Vela's littermate, she explains. Guilt made him run, I know now for certain. But then, there were some who somehow thought him innocent. Their hearts were too pure, I know. I permitted him to live last I saw him but took an eye from him, She did not regret this. It was not without consideration she let him live. All of her actions were for something, and she had known that the terrible wolf would reveal his true colors. And he had. Then he joined the Redhawks, and attacked their then-pregnant leader. They thought they killed him, but no, I smell him on you, she informed. It comes down to me. 

So—does a lanky, one-eyed, dimwitted wolf sound at all familiar to you? Names meant nothing. Scents did, and that eye—a way in which she could always know him.

hydra's reply is swift and wintersbane offers her his rapt attention as she speaks. she has done nothing to dissuade the respect that she earned from him so long ago. screech. that is a name he recognizes, and wishes instantly that he didn't. not for the pale, scarred male's sake — no for the sake of the divine priestess that seeks to protect him.

the winds of war within himself begin to blow, in eerie synchronization with the soft, frigid breeze that ruffles through the longer tendrils of his mane.

i remember galaxy. he assures hydra quietly, though he'd only met vela's littermate once before her death. for now, he avoids the topic of screech for as long as he can. and because he can't lie, because it was useless to anyway wintersbane squares his shoulders, draws in a deep breath and lets it out in a battleweary sigh. i recognize the name screech, though it is not the name he goes by. fire had told him some of this information. the more he learns about screech-mou — coupled as it is with what he has already done — the less wintersbane is inclined to trust him.

he lost his memory. as far as wintersbane knows this is still true. can barely speak. the tundrian does not excuse mou-screech-titmouse and he does not speak of what he thusly knows to be true because he seeks to protect him. were it up to wintersbane he'd have been gone already. but ...it is not up to him and the tundrian is left to do as his leaders command of him. i do not like what i have learned of him. wintersbane tells hydra honestly and adds, resigned. it is not my place to decide. so long as relmyna seeks to protect screech-mou then wintersbane will do as she bids.

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307 words

Lost his memory. Could barely speak. Well, he had been thrown off of a cliff. Unaware of his latest wrongdoing, Hydra even still found that this meant nothing to her. She can tell by the tone Drogon uses that just because he lists these things, does not mean he is forgiven by him. Hydra blinks as he concludes in the way that he does, though understands him well. 

You are a protector, Drogon. That I understand. But he will undermine all you seek to protect. He is but a man, but his blunders bring ruin. He attacked his last leader who was with child. Do you think your own leader is safe? The children within? She exhales heavily. A naive thought. She hoped he was not so foolish as to think anything otherwise. I put you in a terrible position. I am certain you are not meant to harm any of your own. I would not ask it of you. But I do ask that your protection does not include him when I come for him. Let the shadow of your shield fall upon those that are far more deserving, she tilts her head, wondering what he might make of this... proposition. Keep any who seek to get in my way out of my path; safe and occupied, secure... they are not who I want. 

And it was true. Even though they protected him, and even if they knew his misdeeds, they were too foolish to realize their error. She could let him self-destruct, as he always did... but he might survive the Woods, too. She realized in revealing this all to him, he might betray her own trust within him. She was foolish, too, to trust—he was among them again, after all, was he not? 

But she believed Drogon to be, at the core, a man who honored the promises he kept. And if he protected his leader, then the woman was at risk. Especially once she became with child. One never knew when he might act—the only thing that could be known was that he would.

since it's been over a month since the last reply i just went ahead and added on a conclusion for archival. :-)

wintersbane is silent as she speaks, drawing conclusions about him and further speaking about mou-screech-titmouse.

you are a protector.

i don't trust him, wintersbane speaks gruffly, salmon pink tongue cutting across his jowls once in a quick swipe. ...if that's what you're worried about. she needn't be. he didn't know mou well enough to begin with and everything that has happened as a catalyst to his poor choices only serve to make the tundrian even more mistrustful than before. ...and though the listener has opinions the dark master is quiet about it all. does he even know? wintersbane doesn't want hydra to mistake his want to appease relmyna into being a want to protect mou. it wasn't. ...and if mou couldn't deal with the consequences of his actions then that wasn't wintersbane's problem.

there is a lift of the gamma's chin; slight but there nevertheless. he wants to promise hydra but knows he cannot. promising her to keep those who are not her targets out of her way is, in a way, treason. at least, until the dark woods's protection over mou is removed. while he still remains in their ranks and in their woods he is one of them and to manipulate this into being would be to defy relmyna. surely, he thinks, hydra can find a way around taking him down when he's in the presence of blackfeather woods, if she truly didn't want total bloodshed; if she truly just wanted mou.

he is no position within the pack to make sure negotiations and thus he keeps to his stalwart silence. hoping that she understood why he would not betray the word of his leader(s). would she, if the tables were reversed?

i'll see what i can do. but it's not a promise. it's a tentative olive branch between them. he does not speak for blackfeather as a whole because he cannot ...but he can speak for himself, at least. it was good to see you hydra. spoken with sincerity. he only wished it was under better circumstances.

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284 words