Moonspear do you speak?

Hydra surged forward. Any of her own pent up energies were quick to be released with every drumbeat of her stride. Dundundun, dundundun, dundundun—the light-weight of her paws hitting against the snowladen earth was scarcely heard against the heartbeat that she imagined she heard in her ears as her blood roared with the vitality of her coming season. Her ire, her aggravation, her old hatreds seemed to be stripped with every step as she ran. 

Then and there, she was nothing but wolf. Wild, free, untameable energy that lived for this run. This was as close to flying as one could get; they could reach the sky if they climbed a little higher. It was as though her paws did not even strike the ground as her pace increased; this was joy, this was bliss! This was peace. Her ears cupped backward as she went—could Desdemona feel this too?