Moonspear you win or you die

attn @Dirge finALLY

Hydra followed the trail of her mate, her cubs under the vigil of her sisters. They were able to spend more time together now that the children were growing older, and able to stretch their legs more, too; soon, the entirety of the pack would be meeting their brood when they were moved to the rendezvous. But that time had not yet come.

It was coming, though. This much she could sense. The scent of her mate became stronger, and Hydra's stride became longer as her bright blue eyes sought him in this autumnal wood. She slowed, becoming vigilant; he blended well in this sort of environment, she thought, tail twitching in a more predatory-than-playful manner, an impish grin overtaking her features as she prowled onward.

Through the undergrowth, he sussed for something in particular.

But just what that was remained to be seen and thought of, the action in itself more passive in the sense of killing time than some tasty morsel buried beneath the wilting summer foliage. And speaking of summer, it had swiftly gotten away from him in a way that left him feeling a bit sore in thoughts. He would have liked to have roam but not surprisingly, the universe had many other plans for him. Even while the days were still long and yet to dwindle to near naught, he thought he could have.

But then who else would have caused a raucous song towards day's end?

It was commonplace of him to try and rile up the children, who at that point hardly needed him to encourage such wily tunes. They needed less instruction on how to make noise and less on how to keep quiet, and even less input on how the world would shape them. There was always something more to do, something more to show and share, some little detail imparted to him through life that he would in turn impart to them.

And there was very much that he would pick and choose when it came to imparting.

Noisily, he breathed out against the damp debris and took a step forward, his muzzle dragging a haphazard line through the mix of weeds and leaves. No, nothing here of interest. It was hardly the place to gather his thoughts but it was quiet, and as of late he truly hadn't many thoughts to spare. There was little time or use in mourning a summer lost when it had been fruitful and busy, and the passing dourness of it almost being lost came and went like phases of the moon.

Much like his attention on this, more than likely in a matter of moments.

He was oblivious to Hydra closing in.

Each step was quiet, careful; she knew the mountain well, but as the seasons shifted and foliage was shed there were new things to become accustomed to. She looked where she walked and yet was still swift for it, moving with the wind. Her mates scent became stronger, and soon there was even physical evidence of his passing. She crouched low, wondering if she might be able to make him out in the near-distance—

There! His muzzle dragged against the earth, and her handsome husband was none-the-wiser to his being followed, or so it appeared. Hydra lingered where she was, and would until he was on the move again—she hunkered down, shoulders rolling as she antsily awaited, ears listening for telltale signs he was on his way. 

When the children were not looking, she would have her revenge upon him for his noisemaking—though the truth of it had become she would not have it any other way. Hydra Ostrega had grown quite fond of his song—more so than she had ever anticipated.

He thought if the weather held out, maybe tomorrow he would fancy a venture a bit further than his recent jaunts. The forests just beyond the claim of Moonspear were becoming a boring place to venture, all too familiar much in the way a fair portion of the mountain was to him. He had taken everything in with a grain of salt, little by little—a good adventure was meant to be enjoyed, the secrets of any cache not easily shaken with a once over—but he desired something else. A different view to satisfy him, maybe a day trip if he felt the particular pull.

But if he did it... he knew he would have to come back with something worthwhile.

Perhaps Hydra would have want of something else, a different flavor across her palette than the ordinary fare so easily found. A nice pheasant, or maybe a good hock of a goat from a different mountainous area. A lame duck from a pond; he thought surely these would appease her temporarily if he simply skirted away for a touch.

This was, of course, presuming that he would ever need to sweet talk her into such a thing. His short leash was purely imaginary, his silvery tongue no doubt laced with enough saccharine to overpower any ire he could or would have accrued. He did as he pleased in the reality of things, much like his useless foraging in the present.

Though surprise did cross him in an animated display. It was not because he realized she had happened upon him, but because he thought he had found something hiding beneath the detritus after all. Yet this too was disappointing: a mushroom, and not the sort any animal would dare to eat lest they wished to walk swiftly out of this world and into the next. His crestfallen expression returned to that of neutrality soon enough, and he loosened it from the earth with a paw to begin its withering.

Hydra heard him rustling about for more than five seconds; it meant he was distracted enough for her to close the distance there was between them. She bolted in the direction she knew him to be in, emerging from her shrewd cover the brush had given her; he was busy working at something in the earth, and Hydra moved to throw only a measure of her weight against him, fangs moving to pinch dotingly near his ribs if he was not swift enough to avoid her attempt at her playfully aggressive attack against him. 

The maneuver was halfhearted, with no wrath behind it—but she was eager to scuffle and romp with her equal in the ways she could not with her fragile children. She participated in such rough and tumble encounters with her sisters when they could; Hydra was never one to be out of practice.

His muzzle had lifted scantly in a fraction of a second before he felt her slam against him. The unexpected turn of events winded him but only for a moment; he regained his balance in a sure swing of his own muzzle back towards her, clicking his teeth with a growl that sounded far more menancing than it really was. The mushroom was forgotten in an instant, kicked, torn, and cast aside as he delved into this spout of roughhousing.

He too, had missed this.

He rose a leg to plant a foot against her shoulder and shove her away, hoping to put distance between them to better prepare for the next rapid turn in her pacing, and by then his maw had split into a knowing smile of just what she sought. They could push and shove around their children with no real muster still, but with one another there was a different language and strength behind every miniscule pose.

They connected quickly enough, but he was swift to disengage. She answered his sound with one of equal ferocity, and as his foreleg lifted Hydra moved to attempt to pull his earth-bound one out from beneath him. Even as she did this, she felt his own paw press against her shoulder; with no weight thrown with it, it did little to deter her from her own wicked design of wanting to get down and dirty. Her fangs were on display, but her eyes were bright with amusement and happiness both. The din of their teeth and their bodies was a different sort of music to her ears, one she quite clearly enjoyed. 

Her mate was strong and capable, and their spirits were similar. Two indomitable wills had found their match in one another, and what a pair they made.

Their teeth clacked together as a raucous note left him and soon their bodies met—she was ever after him for every step he took away. Such was her temperment, ever assertive and sure footed regardless of the odds. He preferred to try and let her tire, searching unconsciously for some weakness in her ironclad offense. It was through this that he learned much from her and perhaps she from him, though he did not consider himself a warrior by any means. A tactician by any other name at least, but fighting did not suit him as well as other pursuits.

But Dirge would give her much to work with, to test mettle on and over. Sturdy enough to take blows and return them, he met her assault with ones of his own design, and soon he was pushing back against her relentless snips and clicks of teeth with some of his own. A tender graze past a cheek, another full body shove to the shoulder; all those endless little displays of dominance were not without jests and wordless quips to entice her on.

For a time, the duo romped; there was no doubting her enjoyment of this activity which she did nothing to conceal. Though Hydra liked to think she could best him [given this was her own area of expertise that she ever-worked on], there was no effort to do so; he was no easy opponent, by any means, even in their play; his tactical mind worked with her own, and there was no doubting she had learned some things from him. Hydra sought to teach him plenty so that no other but for herself might ever best him. 

Satisfied, Hydra disengaged with a backward hop and a playful swat. Her grin remained as she took in his handsome, ruffled visage; her own furs were likely unkempt from their activity, though she kept her own distant position in case he sought another playfully physical rebuttal. 

I met the very same man you did, when you found that injured woman, Hydra drawled, eyes flashing as her own tactical mind worked to distract him from any physical pursuits against her and thinking this an effective method to do so.

When they parted yet again, Hydra offered him an interesting tidbit. It was a distracting sort of thing, playing well into her hand as he held off on closing in that distance again. A curious note lodged itself in his throat; the list was relatively short when it came to the injured they had lugged back to their domain.

"Did you now?" It was a rhetorical statement; he had never a reason to doubt the validity of what she offered him. "Did he come around here, looking for trouble?" If that were the case, then he had been readily dispatched... but when? His expression conveyed such a wonder to her as his tail lashed idly, his guard far from eased. Such conversations had been carried on between mouthfuls of fur and gnashing teeth before, after all.

Hydra's gaze remained upon him, watchful and patient. Hydra shook her head. No, she breathed, but we were right to suspect him of ulterior motives, that day. He runs a pack of wolves that any can employ, to do any sort of deed, she drawled, smiling. We are to be allies. No deals can be made against us, and we can keep any we do not wish to be in the Wilderness out of it. Hydra's ears twitched, grinning some. She felt it was the wisest thing to do; they were far enough to not be a threat, in any case, and close enough to find mutual benefit in an alliance. 

It was a start, small though it was; a beginning of the empire she would like to see built beneath them. More teeth to keep undesirables out seemed more pro than con; she idly thought of giving them the description of the wolves who carried the burden of her hatred, but then... she so wanted to be the one to finish them herself.

They were to be allies, a note that darkened his thoughts surely as it did swiftly. He understood the premise and the logic behind it; her reasonings in doing so were hardly without merit. She was a shrewd tactician. Better to have such sure-fanged kith on their side than potentially against it, and even more so if they were setting up nearby.

But it wasn't so much the arrangement that disturbed his thoughts, but rather the suggestion that the idyllic nature of their cornered world was coming to an end. The height of summer was past, leaving only the downward descent of winter to fill the void, and what then? He knew well the perils the turning seasons would bring, and felt the budding concern.

"So long as they stay from our hunting grounds then I suppose it would be beneficial to have an extra set of eyes further out." The children kept him from roaming and soon the trembling earth would too. It seemed a shame that they needed to be cautious of other sorts, but he was more familiar with the unsavory sorts that lingered beyond their claim more than ever.

Hydra hmm'd a note of agreeance with him; the Wilderness was big enough for that, and thus far there had never been, in her lifetime, shortages of food. Even with the stirring of the earth, the prey had yet to depart (these being the early days); with the Nightwalkers, they would ensure no food competition among any others that tried to immerse themselves here that were unworthy and not beneath her command. 

As it was, she wanted to befriend no other than the Nightwalkers as it presently stood; they had a great deal to gain, there, and Hydra too was no stranger to the unsavory sort. Hydra did not mind them so much, provided they caused no problems—but her previous dealings with them caused her to realize their worth. She had thought Vaati the villain, but no—his fang was one of prevention. 

It was a shame Rannoch was not felled that day; but then, she would never have learned that those that smiled in your face could be the cruelest wolves of all... and those that looked to be the monster oft were not. She remembered the days she had been ready to kill Vaati—how things had changed! 

Hydra moved toward her mate with a charming expression and flattened ears (I promise to not harass you) before she moved to try and press her cheek against his shoulder. A constant, she thought fondly, had been him; even when he had gone, he had been present, and she was flooded with the feeling that this gave her. She knew it by name, now—love.

She conceded nothing more on the matter; he remained wary of her closing actions as part of their game, not trusting of the wispy, disarming smile that skirted across her features. The promise in that only earned her so much as he drew his head down out of instinct, but when she moved within a grappling range and did not, he relented in his posture to let her ease against him.

It was his turn then to let an affirming note lodge itself in his throat.

Whatever her goals, he could not claim to know every minute detail of them. This alliance being one of them. She could clue him in all she wanted, but his participation was minute at best and present juncture. Such were the workings of a queen, he supposed, and though he was certainly blessed with a gentle ambition, he was a knave before he was a king. The thought was not lost on him.

"Perhaps next time you table such a discussion I tag along," came his voice against the velvet of her ear. Softly, almost calculated. He did not hide the curiosity of whom she consorted with, nor hide the bud of distrust in their newfound alliance—"I wouldn't mind setting eyes on that wolf again. Best to be certain he is true to his word."

After all, they had certainly rattled Reiko well on a simple mistake.

Hydra hmm'd in agreeance, withdrawing only to nose his cheek fondly. She understood well enough his desire to be present in these matters, and the only reason he had not been that day was due to simple coincidence. 'Twas a day she hoisted the children upon him so that she might stretch her legs in one of the first instances she allowed herself to stretch her legs away from her children to give him true time with them... as well as get out any underlying aggression within her from her time as an absentee member. True, her reasons were legitimate—Hydra had been a new mother and had hardly been absent... but those days holed away were ones she had despised, as she thought of them now. For all of the love she held for her children, she did not miss those days of confinement. 

The call to return to them was stronger than she fathomed; she was back as quickly as she had gone. So long as you are not babysitting, she quipped with a wry smile... and then, more seriously: I would like you there, too, not for fear nor mistrust, but because he was her partner. Perhaps we can see how @Arcturus manages watching them; he would like to help in training them, her eyes flashed at this, wondering how he would do with both of the things she mentioned. With a laugh, she remembered, Once, it was me teaching him, protecting him, her voice carrying a great deal of affection. In those days, though, she had helped raise the litter before, too—more of an observational role, but she had always aligned closely to the one that still remained. Vela, in recent days, she grew closer to—loss, she supposed, saw to that.

So long as he wasn't babysitting? His eyes narrowed. But it was all in jest, this he knew. There were far too many other unwilling participants to foist their children on. He listened on, having no trouble in holding back the smile that stirred inwardly as she spoke of her brother and of their children. The gentler, passionate side of her viper smile; he heard more of it now, and enjoyed it.

"Oh, I can tell you had a hand with him," he quipped back.

Yet thankfully, it would have seemed as the days drew out and Arcturus rose to his station, there was less of Charon in him than Dirge had first thought. This was a point he did not share, of course, but it lingered gently in passing. He moved along, embracing the role of supervisory instigator.

"But I think they would like that as much as he would. I've come to the conclusion that Atlas would not turn down another batch of ankles to sink his teeth into," which on that note, Dirge may or may not have come to the conclusion of why his youthful tail pulling was not so charming. "And I'm inclined to wonder what sort of sass the four of them could muster... do you think Arcturus would survive their impromptu howling?"

He smiled then, more teeth than anything.

Hydra could not help but smile at his words; she hoped so. Hydra liked to think that some of the best parts of her brother were because of that same hand her husband spoke of, and it was also responsible for plucking out the parts that were born of a bad seed. The Queen hated to think of it, but her father had inadvertently asked Arcturus to lie to her through secrecy; now, he knew she would not have that. Omission of the truth was a lie, as far as she was concerned. But they had spoken of it; she trusted him enough to believe it would not happen again. 

All of her life, Hydra had seen him safe and protected. For as long as she could Hydra would keep doing so, though now he was old enough to take care of himself... and her children, too. The Queen was proud of the man Arcturus was now becoming, and happy that she was able to witness it. Their parents, she imagined, would also be proud.

He certainly would not, she concurred with a snicker, and as far as him surviving their howling, Hydra moved to nip at his whiskers without intent to land true, a twinkle in her own eye. A test of his will would be wonderful training for him. What sort of torture could he endure? She imagined, tone playfully dark.

"Torture? Bit extreme don't you think?" His head had snapped out of the way of her jesting grab, but it did not tear the toothy smile from him. Though he knew well the company of the children were far from torture.. but their teeth, perhaps only a bit. As if they lacked enrichment or attention any, they were certainly a biting sort when they desired to be. All children were.

"I should have known that was what you would use them for, pure instruments of torment and terror, undoing all the work I've done not to make it so," he went on, chiding her gently. But the tone went darker and a listening ear may have feared him serious: "Why you'd probably want him to take them up the mountain to see how long it was until he snaps. Sound like your nefarious plan any?"

Hydra ]hmmm'd at his inquiry, considering. Not Arcturus. He would not break. He has learned the art of patience from me, more likely inherited from their mother, truth be told, and learned how to exercise it through them both. Hydra blinked as he spoke of undoing her work, and with an impish grin she rejoined: undo? I think their shrill little howls might be the best sort of torture yet. Shame I did not think of it, came her delighted counter. 

Shrill was hardly the word for it; when they all sang together, Hydra felt what it truly was to have a heart. Hydra moved to sidle directly alongside him and nestle herself neatly beneath his chin, ear pressing against his chest to listen to his heartbeat for a calm and quiet moment. Implicit trust in him allowed all of this terrible vulnerability; she loved him, she loved their children, she loved her brothers, her sisters—her family. What she would not do for them!

He smiled again, this time thin as she brought forward her counterpoint. Yes, those howls had once been shrill and out of tune, but now they had grown and held power in them. Dirge too felt many of the things that she did in depth, though he hadn't quite placed a name to the emotions that welled in those moments. This was not the path in life that he had envisioned taking, not at all in the slightest, but there was a contentness in it.

As she pressed into him, he let the moment exist in silence.

It was another sort of feeling that stirred there, something almost there to ruin any sort of idyllic thread that she hung onto. So close to him and keenly aware of how alone they were in the shaded wood, desire pulled at the chords of his heart and set actions into motion. It was a telegraphed practice in gentility, in every caress and feverish touch, and he made his intentions well known to her.

Hydra need not ask what it was he soon felt; he brought about much the same feeling in she herself, and now that she was his and he was hers Hydra was not so keen to deny him the desires they both shared. Still, though, she would not make it too easy for him; withdrawing from him with a flourish of her tail beneath his chin, Hydra darted into the darker shadows of their mountains forest, moving at a rapid clip so that she might not be caught so easily before they might have their way with one another.