Moonspear the secret face within the tapestry

The event at the borders had stirred a mix of emotions in Dirge. He had relatively missed parts of it and the plot had thickened without his entire inclusion. A dead girl, the sister to many; a relative he had not met nor would get to know. It did not bother him as he thought it would, nor did the fiasco of actions thereafter. Such was the law of the land, however just or unjust it was, and someone was usually saddled with the blame. For him, it seemed better to remain unattached and so he had sequestered himself to idle activities to let the heartbroken grieve.

It was the metallic odor that pinged on his senses now, that led him inward and upward along the snowy precipices. It mingled with Hydra and her sisters, converging in a tangle that weaved through sparse brush and woodland. They eventually split and from there he discerned @Hydra from them, following the winding trail upward into familiar climes. The hot springs laid somewhere not too far off and he wondered if he should continue his course. Perhaps she sought to be alone, also keen on sequestering herself away from prying eyes.

In the end, he decided to investigate for himself. The tang of blood lingered still and that alone seemed enough for him to justify his appearance.

The death of Galaxy had been a very sad thing—

But Hydra had properly mourned her and was over it. The wolf to blame had been accosted, as had—unbeknownst to Hydra (the relation)—his brother. Gannet she sought to help, but first, she must wash Vaati's blood from her. The blood of Titmouse had already been rid of from her and her sisters' persons; they would not be incriminated in this. All in all, Hydra was content. 

The Beta climbed upward, to her hidden nook in the territory. Her sisters knew of the hot springs but sought to clean themselves elsewhere, in two separate quarters so their independent scent would be upon Moonspear. As of yet, Hydra had not noted Dirge; her journey had been exhausting, even despite her many victories.

In the sky above where twilight had long set, thin clouds streaked across the sky. At times the faint moonlight sent the snow and frost glittering, but mostly the nighttime orb seemed ominous rather than enchanting. The winter had turned bitterly cold, with biting winds thay foretold more snow to come; he could almost smell it, up there in the climes.

The sound of nails across stone ahead drew his attention away and ahead to a dark figure making their way into the springs. Hydra. His steps did not pick up in pace; he made his way to the damp landing idly. Curiosity spread onto his features as he drew her in, a breathy chuff punctuated the ambience the minute waterfalls provided. He would not join her yet, respectfully holding his distance as he maneuvered along the slick stones.

Hydra padded toward the springs with her eyes closed. She knew these mountains and was certain she could travel them blind if she pleased. But this place she knew especially, and she was not at all surprised when the warmth of the springs spread to the spaces between her toes. One ear flicked backward as she heard the dull click of nails against stone, discovering she had company just the same as Dirge had. Her eyes opened to thin slits; she had not yet memorized the sound of his step, and knew that there was more than one newcomer in her midst. But soon enough, Dirge emerged, and Hydra watched him circle the perimeter mutely. 

The Beta moved onward, taking another step into the waters and dipping her muzzle in to cast some water upon her shoulder. She watched as the frigid temperatures made quick work of it, causing a frosted sort of look to occur the place where she had left the water. It was an interesting phenomenon to Hydra, who had limited experience with winter thus far in her first year, but her priority was getting into the springs. She glanced at Dirge and queried, will you be joining me?

She took note of him moments later, hawk-eyed from the shallow pools. He read that gaze at length, searching for something other than neutrality. She did not seemed bothered by his presence as he wound in closer and at what seemed the curious tilt of his head, inquired if he would be joining her. That seemed promising.

"If you'll permit me," came his reply, a tentative step to the warm waters to follow. Though at some length from her, he was closer than he had been. Dirge could smell much more than the water and the blood; she smelled of the wilds, of damp timber and untold whispers.

He wondered of this, but did not inquire.

She had to smile at his eloquent, gentlemanly response. You are permitted, the Princess decrees, gesturing to her side. Hydra closes her eyes as she moves deeper into the water, allowing it to warm her bones. She was sore, having experienced more than one battle of late, and sighed in content. Here, approaching now, was another battle. This sort she was far more inexperienced in. 

How have you been settling in? She inquired, her eyes still closed. Still, she listens for him, hoping to hear his approach. At present, Dirge was the wolf she believed most suitable to be her consort—though he had a ways to go before being deemed partner—and this day, she would test his own limits so far as what sort of wolf he was, or could be. For now, though, idle talk comforted her as she herself settled.

"Well enough," he replied as he slipped further into the waters. His steps were careful, ever mindful of the stones that were bound to be slick. A shiver snaked its way along his spine, the warm waters were in great contrast to the crisp air of the night.

"I've put a few faces to scents. Met one of your sisters proper, Lyra," at least he was certain that was her name, "and Terance. Rannoch, and Jarilo." His voice tapered off as he drew alongside of her, not too near but not too far. His eyes took stock of her weary form, though he had little doubts she betrayed that in her closed-eyed gaze.

A pause proceeded his next words, the uncertain of what may have been a delicate situation summed itself up in three words: "How are you?"

Oh? She inquired as he mentioned Lyra. Naturally, Hydra knew all of the details of that particular meeting, down to every ear flick. Terance, Rannoch, and her younger brother Jarilo, too. She smiled as she herself moved to circle him loosely, only to settle broadside and drape her muzzle over his shoulders with a sigh. Hydra quite enjoyed being near to him, especially as of late. How did that all go? She hummed, enjoying the peace for once. Enjoying, too, the sound of his voice. 

His next words were met with silence, first. Of course, she knew what he was asking of her; and from him, she did expect it. He was a suitor of hers after all. Caring was something of a duty he ought to attend to. If he was to remain a suitor, though, he must know in full whose web he was being ensnared in. She was no preying mantis, at least—but she was no less dangerous. I have gotten my own revenge. I found her killer and took his eye, she informed him, for the future Galaxy will never see. I wanted to kill him, but there were more reasons than one she had not. His family, for one; her mother and father, for another. If any deserved to rip out his jugular, it was them.

She came to drape her head along his shoulders, her sigh almost content as queries rolled off her tongue. It went fair, was the suggestive silent answer he gave then with a tilt one way and another of his head. His meetings had gone well he thought, at least no heads had gone rolling. His hide was still intact. When he was about to comment on the suggestion he and Rannoch had proposed when she spoke again. With an ear turned back to listen to the lilt of her voice, she captured his attention whole.

"But you didn't," he commented neutrally, hushed lower tones in accompaniment. Taking an eye wasn't the same as a death, but it was a severe hinderance. He almost spoke again before his thoughts composed themselves; he recalled that it had been apparent no wolf had any dealing in what had happened to Galaxy. Hydra no doubt seethed with a passion he could only imagine and perhaps not surprising, did not want to. He remained an outsider to the finer workings and so far it had served him well, at least as far as he was concerned.

A span of silence developed as he processed the information, but it was neither too short or long. He felt he knew what to say but putting it in the right order took finesse and a delicate choice of words. Dirge did not pluck them hastily from nothingness.

"The wilderness will have their way with him I suppose. Though I am sorry there was little that could be done for your sister." He held onto questions about her sister, about whether or not revenge had been as satisfactory as it had wanted to be. For as close as they were physically, he kept himself at arm's length still... but the usual wit was absent from his low tones. Yes, it was better to gloss this over; their law was their law, just as their grief was solely theirs too. His judgment or lack thereof wouldn't have made a difference.

So he opted to remain a comforting headrest instead.

Hydra hummed against his back as he made mention of the fact that she didn't, though her closed eyes opened as she wondered aloud, jaw shifting only just against his shoulders, what would you think of me, if I had? Would it make a difference? She removed her head from its comfortable pillow, his winter furs more than sufficient for a favored location upon him. The season had its effects on all the Ostrega girls, and Hydra sought a nearness to Dirge she had never craved before. It was an inexplicable desire, but one she instinctively heeded throughout their interaction. 

Like a cat, Hydra moved to nestle herself beneath his own jaw, now. As he spoke of the late Galaxy, Hydra licked her chops. We will never know what might have been done, what might be different if he had called, she peers to the rippling waters, though as she slides forward in a movement to circle him, Hydra looked to him as she settled near his shoulder. He decided that. He decided the finality of her death. None could contest this, though they could try their hand at arguing 'she might have been dead anyway'. That was not the point—the point was, there was a chance she might still be living and breathing on this mountain were it not for his decision to just run away from their fallen sister. 

I would have taken his tongue, but I did not want to prevent him from speaking up should he find another in a similar state, she seethed. Hydra looked away from Dirge; would he like who he saw, now that he knew more of her heart? What she did, she did for love—but the actions were considered ugly by many. The many she did not care for. Let their loved ones wither to nothing before their eyes and let them do nothing about it! If they did that, they were cowards—if they did not, they were hypocrites to criticize her method, her choice.

She slipped away to the downy furs of his chest; he preened and toussled the passing of dark hair as she wound again to his other side. A small gesture of comfort no doubt, but it was there nonetheless. His gaze focused on her, meeting the deep blue of her own as though he could read what wasn't bared of her soul. Silence held from his end as she continued speaking and curiosity bloomed when she looked away—was it shame that steered her away? Or perhaps it was a hurt simply too deep that made all justified where words could fill a void, he did not decide nor ponder.

"This doesn't change my thoughts any," he said to answer her original query. It was twisted, but if he inferred her doubtful moment right, then it was a true statement. It changed nothing for him, but he was ever steadfast to stay true to what he intended to do. "If I recall correctly, you were hunting someone down the night we met as well. Far be it from me to say this all that different in theory, though maybe you decided to be more benevolent than vengeful," because the wolf still had a tongue after all. His head canted ever so slightly, and he licked his lips as words found their place again.

"The end justifies the means to me." He had her favor and he sought to keep it there, though his words were genuine; he was far enough removed to truly be upset over action and reaction. A wolf had died, hell had been given to a loiterer on the property, justice was done. There were far more malicious things that could come to any of them and he thought that maybe this was just the way of the world.

Dirge was right to think it was all connected. She had found both men that night, truth be told, and dominated the duo justly. She had forgotten about Vaati in the moment, so focused was she on the justice she had served to the true murderer. 

I found the very wolf that had fled that day. I did what was right, it was clear that Dirge still saw her in the same light. And due to this, Hydra saw him in the same light as well. She drew nearer to him, comfortable. It was benevolent, she agreed with a little sigh, though only you and my parents would see it that way, surely. I ought to have killed him. She repeated her true desire, which she had already stated. He was no stranger to her logic. 

After a beat, she informed him, I found that other wolf, as well. He bears the same markings now as the ones he had given my friend. All my scores have been settled, she said with a wan grin. As settled as they could be (for now) anyway. She still had the itching desire to find and kill Titmouse, and yet... she was coming to accept the decision she had made for others. She could be selfless, sometimes.

Her waning grin produced a thin one from him though it was soon whisked away as he puffed air against one of her turned ears. All scores settled, a satisfaction that must have been most pleasureable of all... or so he imagined. He had never a score to settle in his life. But nary an idle thought crossed his mind as an affirmation sounded in his throat.

"I wonder now what this princess will do," he murmured thoughtfully, bordering a change of tone and pace. Her plate was cleaned, at least momentarily. Dirge was no fool to think it would stay that way for long; Ostregas, he was learning, seemed to either find or be presented with less than leisure events. His life he would later decide had also been very much the same in different shades. The present and past few months had been the most leisure of them all.

The puff of air caused her ear to flick instinctively, though she loosed a low, approving chuff. She quite enjoyed his attentions to the sensitive area there, though it was not something she was fully conscious of. His inquiry brought a thoughtful look to her countenance, and she turned to look at him. I have no plans, she hummed, and leaned more into him, but to stay here with you for a while. Hydra grinned, nosing him. Tell me, Dirge, she asked, interested, have you ever had any scores to settle...? Hydra wanted to know more of him, of his methods. He seemed a willing participant in pack matters; everything she saw on the outside, she approved of. 

He was a strong, decent man. He did not judge her for her way of dealing with things (of course he wouldn't, they were the right way, after all, she thought) and he remained, here and now, beside her. Hydra wondered if he had anyone he would like to see at the wrong end of a gun, and if he were the wielder of said gun, would he pull the trigger with no second-thoughts, as she would?

Her answer stirred his tail into a gentle wave, the pallor of events seemingly lifted for the time being. He could settle for that, he thought, at least for now. But the question thereafter stilled him ever so slightly in the silence that followed even with an answer quick on his tongue.

"Never," he said, "I tend to keep my snout out of such things. Wouldn't be good for my handsome face, I'll have you know." It sounded cheeky, as his was intent there, but it was also true. Though the thought of exacting revenge had passed his mind a time or two before, he had never acted on it. Cross, his grandfather, came to mind briefly but he had opted to play the long con on that. The wolf was growing old and if he had thought Dirge a threat, then he was oblivious to others and how the great wheel of time turned.

Such things, such bitter things had been on his mind months ago, but time had whisked them away. Leaving all that nonsense behind and embracing whatever freedom he could obtain had helped mold him in different shapes and directions.

"But I suppose there are times and places for everything," he concluded, once again preening at the downy hairs of her neck he could reach. "Perhaps one day even I will have a score that can't be settled any other way." And on that note, the rest of their evening seemed to fade to grey.