Moonspear are you up right now?

Night had come, and the weather had cooled. The days were growing longer again, and Hydra felt a strange restlessness stirring within her that had not yet come to fruition. It was unnerving and exhilerating all at once, and Hydra's hiatus and idling had ended thusly. As a woman who prided herself on her work ethic, she had allowed herself the time to relax and be at ease upon Revui's return while embracing her newfound relationship with Dirge, her boyfriend. She did her work with him, all the while he attempted to further their relations with one another... though she had yet to give in to her own baser desires. 

But it yielded a far more intimate relationship, she felt. It felt right, perhaps. And it put her at ease when Alya was so far away. She did her best to maintain the distance Alya needed now; it had always been so. But it was never permanent. Not only this, but Hydra did not feel anything that would permit her to think Alya had found trouble... 

All seemed well. Revui had returned, and although Vela had left, it was no strange thing. All Ostrega's needed time to stretch their legs, she found; but Moonspear was as much a beacon as a lighthouse. They found their way back. 

Hydra and Lyra embraced in a playful scuffle, and Hydra emerged as its victor after a frenzy of snarls and snapping jaws. In her time of relaxation, she had never let herself get soft; one would always see her challenging whatever sibling came into her path and requested it of her. And more often than not, she of them. Dirge, too, was a victim of her teeth-first approaches, but not today. Hydra separated from Lyra with a chuff, and moved to find the agouti male in the cover of the night. 

meant for @Dirge but open :)

At last it seemed winter was finally losing its hold on them. The weeks before had been packed with bitter temperatures, far worse than any he had ever seen. Though displeasure of it had wormed its way in, it had not taken long to grow accustomed, and the warmup that had followed had been welcomed.

The travels that had taken him far from Moonspear had not been without its share of entertainment, though the original quest had long been abandoned when word that Revui had returned home safely—thankfully, one might add, given the previous year's trials—and Dirge had sank into routine with little complaint. This time too it had been easier to manage with Hydra ever serving as balance and check to whatever desires burnt through him. They had been separate little, no amount of time to pass between whatever curve or drop awaited in the day to day.

He lingered deep in one of several wooded sections privy to breadth of Moonspear's claim where low fog of the late evening coiled and twirled, where snow was more glistened in the slow melt that had taken hold. Gone were days where such a thing would merely powder and pile and coat the land; it was soft, malleable, and left little mystery in the comings and goings of friend and foe alike.

But he did not track these things, however idly his progress seemed. Instead the awareness in the ending day drew anticipation for Hydra's arrival. Dirge knew to keep his guard up as the light waned and departed, but in the dense forest he held tightly to the keen advantage it would lend to him, and then to his proverbial shadow as of late. And then, he presumed, they would begin their little dance again, and he would wait for another spark to ignite.

She thrilled as the wind brought to her a hint of his proximity; she corrected her course, having headed the wrong way. From naked stone and rock to verdant forest did Hydra travel, prowling with her nose to the earth to find him. The shadows provided her with an advantage, but the trees provided him with one too; the snow that had come was not so thick on the ground, now, that either of them would stick out like a sore thumb. 

Hydra would need to rely on her nose and her ears, which pricked and rotated atop her head like saucers. The snapping of a branch ahead cause Hydra to still, and her breathing to grow all the more quiet as she crouched against the earth and shied to the right, where low shrubs offered her cover. Whether or not this would be Dirge, she was sure she would find out in a moment. She sussed out her own location, analytical and on guard both, and once confident no one was here her attention was swiftly back to what might have captured it.

He heard it too, the cracking of some hapless branch long dropped. Presumably at least, as the sound was there and gone in the time it took him to draw an ear to listen. The turn of his head to follow did not reveal anything particularly out of the ordinary, but in the depths of any woodland it was exceeding difficult to tell what was out of place. Whatever innate sense of knowledge he had of that old timber was minute; he did not know their types or names, let alone the position of every bough, inch of bark, or weathered stump.

But he did know the dangers of evening, of the winter and of the creatures that roamed and gave little care to the claims of other animals. Stock-still and aware, he almost cast his gaze to look lazily upon his surroundings. As though whatever, if anything at all, had disturbed the near silence he had been partaking in for the better part of the twilight hour. How fortunate they would have been to skirt the end of winter without some hazard to come—he also knew that fortunate was in some way also tied to fortune, and if he had gleaned anything at all about the history of his extended family it was that fortune certainly did not often leave them fortunate.

It was all in folly however, he decided on the next breath, when nothing more tousled and turned in the low lit foliage. He lacked the patience to wait and see any longer, and further lacked the desire to investigate it. It was probably Hydra, he decided, already lying in wait to spring her next exciting wave of teeth to tease his flesh—among other things—and worry at the courser hairs of his winter coat.

The thought alone livened him and he stalked on, drawing away from the sound.

Whatever it was that had shifted did not do so again. Hydra waited, but her own patience paid off. For soon, Dirge moved into her line of sight. Hydra waited only three seconds longer to ensure no danger trailed him before she rose and closed the distance between them in several long-legged strides. She did not meet him first with teeth, as she often did, but attempted to bury her nose into his muscled shoulder; the Ostrega woman was unpredictable as of late with what she wanted (to fight? or to give and receive affection?), but today it seemed that—at least for now—she was in one of her better moods. 

Spring was working strangely with Hydra, who took note of peculiar scents that drifted into the mountain. The year prior, the scents had been thicker and more concentrated here; this year however that was not the case, and so her aggression was at the very least far more in check. Still, now she was dealing with things in far more different a manner. Hormones within Hydra seemed to rear their heads some days, and lie in wait the others. She had yet to go through her change, but any who knew the cycle would see it was only a matter of time. 

Hydra did not know the cycle. Her mothers education on the topic had been brief at best, and hardly very thorough; succinct, and to the point. 

She sidled alongsidie him, a grin on her face. What's on our agenda for the night? she inquired, tail waving behind her. Hydra enjoyed spending time with her beau; it never did get boring, and she was all too aware there seemed so much more to come.

Up out of the darkness she emerged, seeming more wolf than pit viper in the sure strides that closed distance between them. His movements ceased to receive her, a tentative uncertainty lingering until he decided that she did not seek to seize flesh. It was far easier to relax—be it far from letting his guard down entirely—when she decided to bestow affection. He would perhaps always, in the relative present sense, desire her attention. A slow smile spread like wildfire as she spoke; he made a considering note of an answer long before he found his own voice.

"We could take over the world, I suppose," he answered, as though he would really do such a thing. "Surely there's some peons we could harangue into our cause." His smile seemed almost chesire in nature then, the thought of some sort of mischief was an entertaining option. Of course there was no end to options they could have purused through, and he thought of her well enough to append what she would to his cheeky statements.

His words stoked a fire within her. Never before had Hydra envisioned her at the helm of things, but as of late, there was something that caused her to desire to walk a little taller. Test boundaries. Rise. In her youth she had been content as her parents second, and even now felt she was ready to return to those duties; Hydra had given herself time to be away, to live and to explore, but that desire had gone to rest the moment she returned. Moonspear was home. She was as much a part of it as it was a part of this earth; she had seen children raised here, and though none were her own she had taken her favorites under her wing. 

Take over the world. She did like the sound of it, and she was certain he must know that. They had spoken of it, in passing, once—and though he meant it in jest now (perhaps only partially so, given his own nature), Hydra was reminded of her dormant ambitions... that as of late, seemed to stir within her. 

Her eyes shifted to him as she grinned. With your silver tongue, I do not doubt it, She responds, and after a beat, playfully asks: what would your first decree be, as one of its two world leaders? The inkdrops tail swayed as she spoke, eager to know.

He, with a silver tongue? The thought of such a thing coaxed amusement out of him though indeed he believed it true. History had made him capable of knowing his way around words; he found it easy to play to another's strengths, to gently grease the cogs in the machine that made up the world. It was one of the tentaments of survival and it had served him well, if not saved his hide a couple of times.

A thoughtful pause trailed in the wake of Hydra's query; he did not have an immediate, good answer, if such a thing existed. The options seemed limitless, ranging from placidity to the absurd and back again towards dastardly altogether. And there was of course, the thought at the back of his mind that she did not ask him entirely out of humor, that perhaps she inquired simply to see what sort he was beneath it all. As always and ever, he thought he displayed himself genuinely.

"I suppose it would depend upon yours," he said at first, "and the sort of pair we'd make." His gaze stole away to hers, wondering as he went on. "And I wonder whether it would be best to ask whether we fulfill the needs of our own, or of many. It's hard to say, really, almost too lofty of a goal to have don't you think?" His smile was thin but ever amused—in all honesty, being world leaders was not quite something he would have aimed for.

Hydra hummed as she listened, grinning toward his vague answer, and humoring his first words to start: A good one, I think, for they struck a good balance. As for his mention of it being too lofty a goal, Hydra flashed him a brilliant smile. No, I do not, she answered in earnest, blue eyes observant of his features. You speak with the future Queen of the Hinterlands, she all but purred, and I think I may be speaking with its King, Hydra suggested, wondering what he might think of that lofty goal of hers, a playful dream to be sure, but what if they could someday make it so? She liked to think anything was possible; she had acheived all she had ever wanted, when she wanted it. She was ever tireless in each of her pursuits, and perhaps that was why she felt that should she feel so tempted she could accomplish it—whatever it was. Hydra knew well Dirge was capable of that, too, when he wanted. He had accomplished capturing her, after all.

”You think you're speaking with him? Or do you know?” he pushed then, features turning roguishly. It seemed as good as any of a time to let her idly pet his ego, not that it needed any light petting. She had known his plans from before, when he had tried to take the weald for himself. And it would have seemed, even from the playful banter here and now that she did not hold his failed attempt against him.

His head turned to her in full, his muzzle brushing against the downy tuft of fur at her ear.

”I know you would make a lovely queen,” he continued, ”it must be tiring to always wear the princess title.” Dirge drew in a breath then as though there was more to say, but no words came. It wasn't just his ego that needed the petting and in the pull of passion he had almost thought to offer to steal her away again. But she would not go, he thought, she would not commit to the course he wanted to forge ahead with.

Yet he did not withdraw from her, and exhaled gently against her.

Hydra seemed to consider his inquiry, letting out a low hmm as she feigned to mull over the question. Deciding that she would feed his ego, but not before he fed her own desires, Hydra smirked. My prophecies will cost you a kiss, and after a beat, she continued, and venison for dinner, and not waiting for him to agree—of course he would, she believed—she revealed: I know. 

She leaned into his touch, reveling in it, and lifted her head a measure before she scooted nearer. One of her own favorite activities to do with him other than anything else they did was when he groomed her, and she groomed him. Hydra began by finding a knotted tuft of fur out of his own reach, moving to nibble it away should he permit it and not once moving away. There was a twinkle in her eye as he spoke, and Hydra demurred: one never tires, when hearing it from your mouth, but she teased; he knew what she wanted, as she knew what he wanted. 

Hydra felt there was a way for them to have it all. A lofty goal indeed, but it had presented itself. Though it had begun as a joke, Hydra peered beyond him and into the Hinterlands horizon. We could claim most of the Hinterlands, in time, she mused dreamily, aloud. But Hydra always was one to say exactly what she meant. Idle talk was not her way, not in matters such as this in any case. We could rule from the mountains, and any other pack that seeks residence here would need to take it up with their queen and their king, first, a bemused smile lingered on her lips as she spoke, and she pressed it against his chin and gave a nibble. Hydra was not quite so ready to give up what was rightfully her own, earned not at all from inaction; she saw this as their beginning, though life would take them where it would. Together.

Her teeth raked gently across his chin; there was no affirmation given on his end—he could handle venison and a kiss. Instead he merely listened as she answered him and continued. He had to admit he had yet to tire of her in any form, least of all her grandeur thoughts. There was a certain conviction in her tone that revealed plenty. These were not jesting notions with little thought. She had considered this before, and clearly considered him in the picture as well.

”Why the hinterlands? Why not a pretty meadow,” he supplied, drifting. ”Or a lush forest set beneath the shade of a mountain such as this?” Or the coast, he thought, as he quite liked that. As much as he inquired to listen to her pick over pros and cons, he made his quiet gestures to guide her all the same. Never show the full hand, never call a bluff without knowing the odds.

”Though I can imagine why on the hinterlands, I've been there before. They are nice,” he went along, pondering the avenue himself. Yet in spite of their regional flair he thought them isolated, not knowing that the isolation was lesser now than it had been some time ago.

Hydra enjoyed his reply, and rewarded him with another earnest smile. He knew her well enough to verbalize what she may prefer, and he was right to. Fine, then, we shall become King and Queen of this Wilderness. The Glen, the meadows, the weald, the mountains—all ours, she rejoined, more than content with the idea of that. The coast was just beyond them, but there they could sojourn to when they wished. Hydra enjoyed it, but not enough to ever seek residency there or lay a claim to it; the sand was only tolerable for so long, and the salty air, too. But for him, they could visit; her fathers own roots first set themselves in the Bay, after all, and she respected the places there a great deal.

Again she lifted her head so that he might continue to groom her as she made to untangle another knot her eyes had found, eager for his own reply all the while.

He mirrored her actions, tenderly working through a knot as she spoke. Or rather, maybe misspoke for the dropping of the hinterlands seemed to mean naught. It was the wilderness before them that she sought; he wondered idly what other secrets it may have held. Perhaps the coming seasons would afford him the chance to explore them once again, but how little he knew. How little they knew, what was to come.

”Time will tell,” he said, and supposed. Perhaps such a thing was not achievable in their lifetime but it was worth entertaining as a thought, as they did now. With nothing else left to be said, he resumed his ministrations gently ever longing for just a little more than a chaste touch here and there. Another thought to entertain for now.