Firefly Glen blood in eden

Reason and logic both fled the matriarch as she ran, following the bloodtrail and the shadow of the Eagle. Her son and the rest had done their work on him, and somehow this monstrosity still lived and breathed. Not for much longer. Not once her teeth set upon him, however many times it would take to rip him to shreds. Until the bastard could bleed no more. See no more. Breathe no more. Be no more. 

The pressure of the bird upon her caused Hydra's thoughts to return to her, and with it some measure of pragmatism. The heavy weight of the massive bird caused her gait to falter, and as it looked to her Hydra looked to him, no amusement present upon her features as her gaze seemed to ask, who the hell do you think I am? Just as he answered to no wolf, herself included, unless his whim allowed it she was no handler of birds—and the weight of him was unwelcome. 

But she was not thankless. The bear will be for you and yours to eat, she drawled, when we kill him. Not if. When. 

He took wing again, taking tufts of her fur with him; the sharpness of his talon smarted, but he had not opened any skin upon where he had elected to sit upon her. He was much too large for that, and she wondered what he was thinking—Hydra now knew for certain birds were not dumb things, but sentient and quite clever. Likely he was seeing if there was any use to it; she hoped the brief moment of reprieve rested his wings so he could be of use in this fight. 

The trail grew stronger, and Hydra slowed; it was near, now, and Hydra set her own defenses as she prepared for this strange battle. Were it not so injured as it was, she would not engage at all... but she needed to see for herself his status, and determine if it was worth waitin for more or if she could do it herself. Quietly, and downwind, the matriarch stalked.