Moonspear Look past the sweat.

The leviathan was not old enough to understand the implications of the season, yet he roused that morning with the musk of his sister heavy in his system; Hydra's aroma had become a siren's call to the resident males, relatives or not, and Revui's body began to react to it while asleep. He woke feeling tense; rigid in places he ought not to be. There was small feeling of almost-hunger in the pit of his belly but he did not know why, as he had eaten through at least two caches prior to his sleep. He was on his feet within moments and trying to work the feeling out of his body. As he roamed the higher reaches of the mountain he found himself on the hunt for Hydra, yet could not fathom why he was so focused upon her — he crossed from one narrow path to another, to a ridge, then down along a descending section of the hillside, but the feeling persisted.

He spied a curious shape and drew close; it was nothing animate, merely a collection of bushes, ferns, some weathered tree stumps — but something about the shape appealed to him. He slunk around the formation with investigative sniffs, finding that Hydra's scent had somehow been imparted to it; some of her fur as well, perhaps an act of marking. The musk was stronger here too and it acted like an intoxicant to Revui's system. He did not think, merely acted — and with a lurch, found himself clamboring atop the pile, but only his front-end managed. Raised up as he was, the boy resembled some kind of leonine figure carved from slate.

Soon, he was rubbing himself against the pile, propelled by some unknowable force of biology.