Moonspear ring of fire

Hydra had always enjoyed watching her younger siblings scuffle; among them, she would hedge bets as to who the best would be. Who she wanted the best to be. Even now she found herself doing the same, wondering who between the two would best the other this day. Dragomir truly had grown much both physically and mentally since his arrival here, but there had not been a day (as Dragomir seemed to know) that the younger Antares had been built for this the moment that he could learn. All the same, Dragomir was a survivalist; tenacious, and full of a fighters spirit. She was glad to see him as she did; he recognized the game and measured his opponent. This was different than protect the prey or even steal it—this was simply an exercise in strength. 

Both of the children had that in spades. 

She watched now, still and quiet, though now and again she would shift and lick her chops as the tables seemed to turn. They were well matched, the two of them; she was sure it would be the same with each of her children. Antares clearly had his mind to the task, and Dragomir too; even still she had no idea which way it would go, or if there would even be any victor at all. It was a moment of true fun even with the training it carried with it, and Hydra looked upon them with a rare hint of warmth about her. Blink, and one would miss it.