Moonspear it don't matter if the cold wind blows, I'm gonna wind up working in the thick of it

He hadn't meant to oversleep, but that's precisely what happened. He'd long ago become accustomed to falling asleep hungry, and this time was no different, except that his muscles were angry with him and it took a little longer to get comfy; all the same, Tye reminded himself as he drifted off to sleep that he needed to wake at dawn, which was only a few hours away—reciting those orders over again in his head, over and over and over, like a mantra, until he was asleep.

And when he woke up the sun was beaming down to him, dazzling the warm tones in his pelt which otherwise would've been lost, comforting him. He almost didn't rise, utterly content, at least until he remembered where he ought to be. As he raised to his paws his haunches quivered and he almost collapsed again. His back and shoulders were stiff all over—but he grit his teeth and ignored it in lieu of his duty, which prompted that he go meet with Hydra. How long had he left her waiting?

The boy looked like a marionette missing some strings. He wasn't subtle as he sought out Hydra's scent—leaving behind the hollow where he'd rested—and when he came upon her she was sulking in the dark, looking out over a ridge; plumes of breath drifted faintly from her snout, but she was calm, focused. As he came to her side he tried to take a few measured breaths to calm his heart, fearful that something might happen if it were to race too fast.