Firefly Glen the grand optimist

Hydra did not think he would seek to stop her, and yet he did. Her ears cupped backward, but she did not wait; Hydra marched on, dignified and decided even as deep within, she revolted. Was that her? Was that this damnable season? She paused long enough to snap aimlessly at the air; if she wanted to strike him truly, there was no doubt she would have. All that aside, Hydra was distracted. With him, with Dirge, with everything. 

He would stay away until seasons end. And all other women, too! She wanted to selfishly demand of her. One ear turned toward him to indicate she heard him, but this day she would not reward him or deign him with a verbal rejoinder. Hydra desired it, true, but she dared not believe it or think that he would. He came, he went; this was what she knew of him, now. She could not resent him for his decisions made, though she did for the fact that his decision had never been her when once, her own had so clearly been him. 


Now there was Dirge; she thought of him, their children. She swallowed thickly to think she would not even be returning home to him; though her thick furs prevented winters could fingers from taking her in their grip, it was something else entirely that caused her heart to feel its frosty touch. 

She could not help but look to him sidelong; even in her peripherals, the wild-furred Rian was capable of causing the Queen to feel something, and so she pushed her pace forward, teeth clicking again at the air in forewarning. This was not yet her own time within the season; all men that advanced her in such a way were answered in such a way, Dirge included.