Moonspear fresh static snow

No wolf enjoyed pain—Hydra was more of a sadist than a masochist when it came down to it—but there was something to be said in how she was used to such a thing. Lyra's grip was a pinch, harsher than that of her cubs when they could do nothing but this though gentle for her. Hydra knew full well of their capabilities, and so Hydra grit her teeth against the pain that did flare up from her sisters removal process. 

Whatever the creature was did eventually pop free when Lyra's teeth connected; the thick-end of it had been gripped and, blessedly, it had not been torn apart in the process. The whole of the tick came out and Hydra felt some relief for it, before squinting at the thing in Lyra's mouth. I do not like this bug, Hydra decided simply, grimacing at it, we should see if it can drown. Her tail waved at the thought; damn the thing, whatever it was, to death.