Moonspear flight of dragons

Hydra fed, lips limned with red—some crows tested their luck, but the matriarch snapped them away from the kill with enough zest to cause them to linger behind her, cawing. The crows that lurked Moonspear knew well enough not to test their luck when she fed like this, though it was not as though she prohibited them from their due. The corvids had led her to many a kill, after all. The symbiotic relationship was one of dual benefit, and each of them were familiar in their own way. 

A larger, winged creature circled overhead. Now and then it had taken to following her, she noted. Hydra had known it, as well as one could without true interaction, since it was young. Still, the feeling of being watched was unnerving. But it was not unlike it was not a mutual thing, either. That was how she had found this kill. The Golden Eagle had knocked a full-grown goat down not once, but several times before its end. It had its fill, and Hydra now was having her own. 

As she ate, a feather descended and landed nearby the kill. Her blue gaze turned to it as she chewed, swallowed; the sight of it caused her to realize it fed off of her own kills, too, when she was not nearby. Licking her chops, she looked upward to see that the bird was descending to land, now. Not for the first time Hydra thought of Towhee, and thought of X. Once it was on the earth, Hydra lifted her head from the food. Do you understand me? she inquired. A blink. The strange turn of its head, birdlike. A click of its beak. 

With a sigh, Hydra turned. The thing seemed to shriek, then, and Hydra turned her head to see a young fox darting toward the kill. Downwind, it likely would have succeeded in living another day if not for that. 

Alas, that was not to be. Hydra surged toward the animal to make quick work of it. The fox was swift, the sound of the bird warning it, too, though, and it turned to flee the scene even as Hydra charged. Timely enough to make a getaway, it would appear... but Hydra was not so quick to give up. Looking back to the bird, she watched as it took to the sky without returning to the kill. How to communicate with it? Was there a way? Had it understood her, after all? 

No time to think on that. Turning back to the task at hand, Hydra set her nose to the earth to find, and kill, the young kit.