Moonspear there's a freedom that everyone deserves

Subconsciously, Hydra too thought of their parents. Thought of how they had met their end, teeth against teeth, one no more unyielding than the other. White and black and gray and red... flat emerald, glazed blue—the colors of their death. Since their death, Hydra navigated the upper reaches more to practice her own footwork upon them, testing her weight and her balance and beyond. She had found her answers up there to questions she had never voiced, though the taste of them were so bitter upon her tongue that she had yet to share them. 

With a lick of her chops, Hydra rumbled; she did not think it pride that kept his leg upraised despite her bidding he put it down, nor did she think it him challenging her authority. Arcturus was skilled enough that she did not feel true cause for concern, and yet as she watched him, heard him beckon, Hydra did not move; she was still, for the time, and drawled, leg down. 

He would need it; she wanted to put him to the test, and herself, too, against the feeling that welled within her. More than that, were he to fall Hydra did not want him to come to true harm in any sense of the word (not that she ever did, but with three legs here it was near impossible to avoid... and she needed him in better shape than that for the hunts to come). We will do three next time, here; you will see why I ask this of you, she promised, though for now she would not relent in this. Hydra and he both would come to appreciate it; she had practiced up here, sparred, too, with their own late parents, and he would need to understand the great difference between this sort of spar and the rest so as to become more battle-savvy.