Bramblepoint growing strong

She was all too amused at his predicament; he swung to face her, apple stuck to his fangs, and Hydra reconsidered her idea of playing to take advantage of his unfortunate position... but decided better of it. They had work to do first, and the health of her pack and children was her priority over a moment of play... which could be done once the matter at hand was dealt with. 

Hydra grinned at his inquiry. Sometimes. Other times she ground it up and applied it on them and licked the rest upon some rock in her medicinal den, and she found out that way. Lyra had mostly been self-taught, and fortunately for any injured party on the mountain she had tested plenty of prey before she had wolves to know right from wrong. 

The Queen darted toward him when he mentioned some not being edible and found her paws sinking into the same mash his had; the scent was plenty sour, and Hydra's muzzle wrinkled at the feeling. Disgusting, she snarled, flicking her paw of the refuse and watching it land not too far from her mate. An apologetic look was offered then, but it had not hit him. It should be easy enough to guide them of which to eat, and which not to at least, it was visible and easy to smell. Some were black with rot, and others smelled of fermenting. Those were not inedible, but Hydra did not like the smell of them and would avoid them herself. There were plenty of fresh ones easy to detect amongst those not, and more than enough for all despite their ample number. 

Hydra nodded to his words, considering them at length. He was not wrong; they could lead other predators to them. They might lurk, laying in wait anyhow, she thought aloud, looking to him, perhaps this way we can even bring them to show their face. It might be a challenge to face whatever might come, but Hydra thought of it as simply a more difficult hunt—one with meat at the end of the road, and Hydra liked to think it would be the meat of both prey and the challenging party.