Moonspear you win or you die

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.