Moonspear are we awake, or are we asleep?

The sisters were right in thinking that he was close—he had been, for some time. Whether it was simply dumb luck or some inexplicable, innate perception that something was unfolding he had possessed the sense to find where Hydra had intended to whelp. He had found the rough location only a few days prior, but the lurking done by the other two had helped him hone in on its location.

This year, they lingered too close for him to answer his own questions.

From his sequestered vantage, they were nothing more than two dark sprites that flickered in and out of view. From behind trees or dense clumps of thick grasses they would appear, loiter briefly, and phase back out. He was too far to hear the cries of any babes there, too far to have called out gently to either Lyra or Alya or both to gain insight. Not that they would have shared; they knew no more than he would for a time, if not barely anything else.

He left them, once, if only to settle himself.

In a time like this, he could not abide by stillness; it were as though suddenly having to be apart from Hydra was more curse than blessing. The borders would be too far off to distract him so he had patrolled a wider range than the sisters would, carving a lazy, distracted semi-circle through dip and rise alike. It was in the curve back that he found @Vega and soon had her company to occupy him with questions and answers, the things that she could anticipate.

At that point, the two took up roost where he had been prior, lying in the grass with prolonged states of silence until one of them broke it. She asked if he had done the same when she and her siblings had been born; he told her that he had, that the setup had been very much like the one they were presented with. Her aunts to keep watch and to guard the closest and how he had stayed further out to do the same. How Vega and her siblings no doubt aided this cause, even if for the moment they simply lied in wait.

Perhaps true to his nature, he did not tell her that his lingering was not so prolonged, or that he had wormed his way up towards the den mouth until he was close enough to find his own answers, how he had been close enough and smart enough to scurry away when Alya had spotted him last moment in his retreat. Or even that he had been closer in his wait last year than this one for that reason—the experience had been enriching for him in just how tolerant her mother and her aunts were not. For once, Dirge had not been able to charm his way. And thus, he had not tried this year.

Through the cover, he realized in his recollection that the pacing sisters had stopped. Neither had passed through his line of sight for what seemed a beat too long, nor did they appear when he hastily rose from his place on the grassy knoll. Inquisitive as his features willingly twisted, he found himself locked there only because Vega had rose beside him, her gaze shifting between him and the point in the moonlit world he had fixated on.

Her mouth opened to ask another question, but was cut off by Lyra’s summon.

He ventured on with his daughter in tow for a spell, at least until Lyra’s cutting figure was joined by Alya and he felt his own gait slow in approach. Wanting to spare Vega from a scornful tongue, he stopped altogether and turned to her to ward her off gently: “Wait here, and watch for your brothers.” He didn’t know how quickly to expect them, but he imagined that @Osiris would be lingering close by, perhaps with @Antares or @Atlas too. No doubt they had conferred among themselves—Vega had found him, after all.

Once that was out of the way, he approached more cautiously, though more towards Lyra—Alya seemed to be keen on keeping watch for the others. Fair enough, he determined; he thought he had a better chance of information in going to the one sibling that did seem a bit fonder of him. The same acrid aroma struck him where they intersected, and his gaze stole away to the lip of the den where it sunk steadily into the earth. It did not linger there long before he brought it to her to hold her imploringly, gently.

“Tell me,” he asked of her in sotto voce—he did not hear the cry of babes, who by then were content and fed. The silence was disquieting, the thrum of his own pulse loud in his ears. His was a worry to remain until he would be afforded opportunity to see them for himself.