Moonspear black holes in my favorite sweaters

Unbothered by the scream, Hydra was watchful over Isilme's deliverance of her decree; once it was done, Hydra moved to nose the young girl on her own shoulder (likely smearing foxblood, there, in the process) with a proud wave of her own plume. There was pride there within her eyes for what she had witnessed and partaken in; Isilme had done well. Drawing in a loose semi-circle around the girl, Hydra surged forward then to grab for an accessible portion of the limp creature to instigate a game of tug-of-war with the Xi, tail still waving left and right in slow, sweeping arcs. 

As far as Hydra was concerned, it was a good day for this—venting out old frustrations, and bonding both it would seem. Should her grip have landed, Hydra would attempt to compromise Isilme's own grip with a rough shake of her own head.