Moonspear don't need caution, you're gonna find out; in this lifetime, only upsides now

Up and up Hydra meandered, and as she came upon his scent it became none too idly. He had tested her earlier in the season, but then Hydra had not at all been physically receptive. With the stress of the season, it was no wonder her own started late—what she had to contend with was the same as her mate, and her desire for there to be no repeats of the year prior. Once that was dealt with, it seemed the season—as it had the last year, too—took over. Stress, worry... all of that gone and consumed by the fire that had ignited within. Already Hydra had thought of numbers, logistics—none but for she and her mate had decided to have a litter again, and that decision was more or less made when the prey had returned. For even Hydra saw no wisdom or benefit to bringing in a new generation if there was nothing to feed them. They had made it the year prior for their resourcefulness and preparedness for the event—but if there was nothing to replenish their stores, there would likely be no surviving children this year. 

But the tides had shifted, again in their favor, with the return of the prey. A great migration had seen their arrival. Hydra felt she could breathe a little easier. And every single choice that she had made in her lifetime felt right. She and Dirge, together, had seen Moonspear flourish in a time of significant turmoil. They deserved this quiet. They deserved this peace, however long it might last. 

He was soon in her line of sight, and Hydra suddenly pushed herself into a run—before very long, she had arrived to his rather voluptuous (as she saw it then) hindquarter and moved to fiendishly nip it before attempted to surge ahead of him with a spirited whuff (unsure if her fangs grabbed hold of anything at all, in all of her excitement), tail waving behind her to match the cadence of her joy and simultaneously advertising to him what was upon her.