Moonspear you win or you die

Each step was quiet, careful; she knew the mountain well, but as the seasons shifted and foliage was shed there were new things to become accustomed to. She looked where she walked and yet was still swift for it, moving with the wind. Her mates scent became stronger, and soon there was even physical evidence of his passing. She crouched low, wondering if she might be able to make him out in the near-distance—

There! His muzzle dragged against the earth, and her handsome husband was none-the-wiser to his being followed, or so it appeared. Hydra lingered where she was, and would until he was on the move again—she hunkered down, shoulders rolling as she antsily awaited, ears listening for telltale signs he was on his way. 

When the children were not looking, she would have her revenge upon him for his noisemaking—though the truth of it had become she would not have it any other way. Hydra Ostrega had grown quite fond of his song—more so than she had ever anticipated.