Moonspear the moon still hung, the night so black that the darkness hummed

Hydra continued onward. As she moved, her head lifted and her nostrils flared to discern something else: the impending weather. Nothing bad, just more of the same; snow would soon come to fall again. A few hours, perhaps. An ear turned backward as something else registered; Hydra turned her head to see the tawny features of none other than her sister. Too lean, she was able to surmise even in her peripheral, to be her mate—too careful to be one of her cubs. They carried with them the confidence of youth, and this wolf hung back. 

Easy enough to know who it was by that alone. Yama had still been quite quiet, but Hydra let her grieve a while longer. She did it for those who could not, the new matriarch felt. It had been some time since Yama had been scented near this altitude. Perhaps it was progress, or perhaps the upper reaches were too difficult for Yama to navigate now. Hydra had years of experience and her parents tutelage on how to navigate such treacherous grounds both on her side... Yama did not. 

Hydra paused in her movement to look fully over her shoulder, now—she chuffed to her sister in invitation, should she want to accompany her.