Moonspear When darkness speaks, it changes everything.

From between his lips came a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. It came in relief to learn that Osiris had not faltered through the night, that he would carry on to fight another day. Of course he would, Dacio mused, for he was a child of Hydra's womb. No babe to cone from her would ever give up that easily.

Following this simple exchange, the Queen turned attention to Dacio's own wound. It'd been tended to the best of Lyra's ability, though the discomfort that seemed to bristle beneath the skin had given him cause to nip and lick at the exposed flesh. It hurt, and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future, so deep had the blackbird punctured and tore at the muscles supporting his elbow.

Nothing that a Drageda-born wolf couldn't handle, of course.

"You may," he permitted, though who was he to reject? Hydra was his leader, and Dacio trusted her as such. He scooted to the side, pressed a shoulder snug against cold rock of the cave wall to make space for her, and outstretched his damaged forelimb for her examination.