Moonspear don't need caution, you're gonna find out; in this lifetime, only upsides now

Hydra is officially in heat! Short post 2 get the ball rolling

 

And so it begun, well and truly; the matriarch of the mountain had educated her children enough of what this time of the season meant, and what it would mean for them. Where they were then she was not so certain; the matriarch at this point in time only had eyes for her mate. Her scent was strongest now, and though she thought of him she did not pursue him actively. She searched for him without really knowing that she did so, navigating the Spear expertly and wandering on paths well traveled by him. Her season was well advertised, and there was little doubt as to what time it was upon Moonspear.

That certain time had come alive again, he was sure of it.

And yet he did keep his distance from Hydra, by then no stranger to the shifting sands that comprised her ever evolving mood, for better or for worse. Whether it was with some mute affection he could be received by or a flare and flash of pearly teeth, he would be prepared in spite of his own desires and vices.

This year had not brought him the desire to antagonize her as much, though he hadn't taken much note of it. There was much to contend with mentally and physically—Moonspear had come out on the other side of winter in decent shape, but not without moderate work to keep them on top. There were many of them, perhaps too many should things turn south again, but only time would tell.

He did not think about these things either—Dirge was surprisingly free of thoughts as he ventured along a familiar trail. The air felt warmer now, free of adaptation, but not so free of coming snow yet to fall and blanket them once more; the mountain peak was well obscured by clouds, and the vales and valleys beyond were cloaked in a heavy, ethereal fog.

It was quiet—not overbearingly so, but just right.

Up and up Hydra meandered, and as she came upon his scent it became none too idly. He had tested her earlier in the season, but then Hydra had not at all been physically receptive. With the stress of the season, it was no wonder her own started late—what she had to contend with was the same as her mate, and her desire for there to be no repeats of the year prior. Once that was dealt with, it seemed the season—as it had the last year, too—took over. Stress, worry... all of that gone and consumed by the fire that had ignited within. Already Hydra had thought of numbers, logistics—none but for she and her mate had decided to have a litter again, and that decision was more or less made when the prey had returned. For even Hydra saw no wisdom or benefit to bringing in a new generation if there was nothing to feed them. They had made it the year prior for their resourcefulness and preparedness for the event—but if there was nothing to replenish their stores, there would likely be no surviving children this year. 

But the tides had shifted, again in their favor, with the return of the prey. A great migration had seen their arrival. Hydra felt she could breathe a little easier. And every single choice that she had made in her lifetime felt right. She and Dirge, together, had seen Moonspear flourish in a time of significant turmoil. They deserved this quiet. They deserved this peace, however long it might last. 

He was soon in her line of sight, and Hydra suddenly pushed herself into a run—before very long, she had arrived to his rather voluptuous (as she saw it then) hindquarter and moved to fiendishly nip it before attempted to surge ahead of him with a spirited whuff (unsure if her fangs grabbed hold of anything at all, in all of her excitement), tail waving behind her to match the cadence of her joy and simultaneously advertising to him what was upon her.

His solitude persisted not more than just a few minutes beyond—he heard the footfalls long associated with his ebon-cloaked wife, knew the steady tempo she beat against the cold earth perhaps better than most would. Her spirited approach did not immediately stir him from the moment he presently existed in; an ear turned nonchalant towards her, his tail swished once or twice.

It wasn't until she made to grab him in passing that he felt himself come alive through reactive instinct—he needn't be told twice. Then he was after her, a smirk placed upon his features until he reached for her tail that was so swiftly out of his grasp. She could play the fiend all she wanted to, but that his more his role than hers to carry. It was familiar, this song and dance, and he knew just how to steer her, how to guide her towards the inevitable end.

Hydra laughed as he gave chase, a thrill running through her as he pursued. This was an ancient dance, and one they had done several times before this. A fire had spread that only he could extinguish, and there was little question of if she would allow him to now. Her impatience, her need for him, was such that Hydra did not flee from him for very long; she slowed so that she was within his reach now, turning to engage him with a flourish of her plume to again offer him the bouquet her season brought with it. 

The Ostrega sought to ignite him too; her fangs would seek to preen and nibble attentively upon anything in her reach before she, in a fashion not at all unlike a feline, sought to draw against his side, pausing near a hindquarter to rub her head against it—her tail waved left and right, knowing precisely where it was placed in relation to that snout of his. Feeling clever, she looked at him over her shoulder and rumbled. 

Where they stood was much too open, and so Hydra's tongue laved at his hindquarter for a moment before she encouraged him with a whine toward the secluded alcove in the forest ahead of them. Hydra made toward it with an impish grin, listening for his pursuit.

Her laughter was an exciting thing—it was rare, perhaps borderline divine in the current season they were in. She lead and as always, he followed, driven by a biological imperative so easily ignited within. Her rumbling was met with one of his own as he rose to the occasion, intent on capitalizing on it while her mood was still favorable, for as long as she was willing to have want of his company.

But once more she parted from him before he had opportunity to seize her and Dirge did not need to see the clever grin on her features. Seclusion meant little to him, but half of the fun was purely the chase, the swan song of a dance they would perform leading up to consumation of a still enduring relationship. Deep into the wood he followed her no more than arm's length behind. Wanting but not needy, for he knew she would offer her gifts as she pleased.

He followed willingly; Hydra found herself not at all eager to be resistant for very much longer at the onset of it all. Her mate was a stalwart man who had more than proven he was in it for the long-haul in each sense that he could, but there was ever a chase between them that kept things lively between them. And so Hydra kept that chase going for only a few moments more before she beckoned him nearer without fleeing, rumbling an invitation that needed no more elaboration than the shift of her tail that promised she would resist no more. 

Dirge had not been far enough to need go very far, she ever in his reach. Surrounded by the things that they knew in a private space, she did not think of any coming across them and at this point would not have cared if any had. Her eyes were now for her tawny partner, and him alone—as was the rest of her. 

FADE 2 BLACK WITH UR NEXT POSTY?

There was a moment of hesitation, but to call it such was a farce. He admired her in a long glance, eyes slipping to a half-lidded state as he thinly smiled. These were rare moments between them with all that went on; it seemed as of late time had no desire to slow down and though he lived for the speed and thrill of many things, rest had climbed its way well into their ranks.

But for now... the rest would come later.

She would not be in wanting for long—he closed in on her with lust baited on her breath, and let passion consume them thusly.