Moonspear can you try me (try me)

Finally, Rian mused as he drank in the potent scent of the borders, and the fleeting glimpses of the towering peak between the lush canopy overhead as he came to a halt. Even though spring had banished Winter's chill from the lowlands, snow still clung to the higher elevations and were like to feed the various melt-water pools of Moonspear throughout the summer. One ear cupped forward as he tilted his head a fraction to the right, and shifted his eyes skyward to ascertain the position of the sun. Mid-morning.

But he was nonplussed by the knowledge that the pack was like to be fully roused. Be it one wolf, three, or Charon himself, there was nothing short of death itself that would sway him from his course. He lengthened his stride, breaking into an easy lope as he ghosted the fringes of the claimed territory. If their former behavior was anything to be compared to, Rian knew he would be discovered in short order. Still, the thought did not cast any suggestion of self-doubt upon his impassive mien.

He neared a cluster of ferns and abruptly turned to investigate the intrinsically familiar scent that lingered at the base. Rian padded over and lowered his head, sniffing delicately at the hanging fronds. @Hydra. A sudden warmth spread from the base of his skull, down his spine, and throughout his body. In a manner most polite, he stepped closer to forcefully push his cheek against the base of the fern in a scent roll, collecting it onto his fur. He repeated this only to rise and shake the needles and forest debris from his mahogany hide. 

Rian took a moment to weigh his options and lashed his tongue across his jowls, eyes blazing with a profoundly focused interest.

Upon her return, Hydra haunted the borders regularly, often with @Lyra as of late. Usually, her sister joined her later in the day—her morning ritual consisted of investigating new herbs and collecting them for her stores. Hydra's had changed very little since her return home, and she was near the borders when she saw a flash of black move in the distance. Hydra had not caught wind of the scent, but she was certain she had seen something. Never one to waste time, she descended expertly, not needing to look where her paws fell to know where they landed. 

Fortunately for the stranger, they were far enough to not be met with her outright and instant aggression, but her demeanor was far from welcoming as she advanced in a predatory prowl. New life here made her all the more guarded, and she appeared every bit an arrow poised to be loosed from its quiver if the other made one wrong move...

What she happened upon was a man, rising, with debris falling from him—she recognized the spot as one she had marked but two days ago—and her tail lifted swiftly over her hindquarters as her pace quickened, thinking, at first, the worst. It was fortunate for him that the wind struck her at all. She swallowed the snarl that had nearly fallen from her lips—instead what came was a perplexed whine. Not once did she stop moving, however. She closed the distance between them, her nose seeking to press against the first bit of him that presented itself, to feel him, to confirm that he was here. 

She had seen Rian many times since his leaving. No—she had thought that to be the case. Hydra had sought him in every stranger, but she had been wrong every time. Hydra did not allow herself to hope, as the feeling had brought her disappointment each time, but this scent, she had to... and if it were not him, this wolf, he had seen him—

Silent as an owl on the wing, she arrived. 

A whine, hardly perceptible above the melodies of morning birds, caught his attention and he twisted an ear to better discern the direction while his eyes darted sideward at the flash of movement in his periphreal. The wind did not favor him and he could not discern if this was friend, foe, or even the source of that wolfish sound. But Rian was prepared for the inevitable repercussions of his proximity to Moonspear, and immediately twisted in place and propelled forward a few stiff steps to face the approaching wolf head on. 

But as she—she—neared, Rian was taken aback by the shock of fathomless cerulean that whorled with unfettered confusion at the sight of—could it be? A sharp inhale sliced through his mouth as it parted to claim the air his lungs now desperately sought. The raven-furred beast didn't so much as curtail her advance and his inky lips suffered a fleeting tremor as he wrest control of his instinct, and thrust his heart into the vacancy it left as she neared. He ducked his chin to protect himself—three yards—one—a hair's breadth...

Hydra.

The stunning realization came as her wind-chilled nose connected with the muscular juncture of his shoulder and neck, burrowing deep beneath the silken length of his guard hairs. He saw her—knew her. The notch in her ear, the eternal night of her eyes, and the marked scent of pine, soil, and snow on her fur. Rian had grown into himself since their last meeting—a dense musculature filled out his gangling, coltish frame over the winter, giving him an remarkably regal appearance in contrast to the unkempt ruffian of a yearling he once was. 

Rian lifted his chin, turned, and cautiously leaned in to sniff the base of her ear. His nose twitched as he maintained a wary eye on the line of her body in case she found him wanting.

Contact. 

Her nose set to work, inhaling where it landed. He was far sturdier than she recalled, but any doubt she had imagined snapped into two as the musk that was inarguably his own came to her. Hydra could not believe it—she had, truth be told, thought she would never see him again. When he had gone to find Cypress, he had not come to Moonspear to announce success or failure. Though she had searched for him beyond her packlands, she had never been able to find him. Hydra had shifted between two mindsets: that he had passed, which she could not entirely convince herself, or that he had simply moved on. The latter thought pained her just as much as the first, her pride a large part of who she was. 

There were no other familiar scents upon him. No scent of the Vale, no scent of Cypress... and, as an added bonus, no other women (strange or recognized) she needed to kill...

But she could hardly think of those things. For a moment, she let herself remain here; she feared if she moved, he might no longer be there. But as his cool nose touched the base of her ear, she withdrew from his side to look at him. He was handsome, more handsome than she remembered. Sturdy and strong. That he was here now very clearly meant he had not forgotten her, or—

Or had he come for Rannoch? 

She could not find her eloquence or her tongue to ask. She simply watched him, observant and wary as well as uncertain. What did she say? What did she do? What did he want? I looked for you, she started. She could never find him—his travels led him far out of her reach. Half or her was irate that he had moved so far from here prior to Winter, though the other half of her understood that if it were her sisters, she would do the same. 

But what now? 

Rannoch and Liffey left, she said in her next breath, if you are looking for them, they are not here anymore—I am not sure where they went, she knew the importance of family to him and did not want to mislead him—but what she knew for certain was that none of his brothers had looked for him as she had. Rian had searched for others as Hydra searched for him, and really, though even now she would not admit it, she had not entirely given up on her search. 

Hydra had always imagined laying into him when she found him. Ripping him a new one for not coming to tell her his search might take a little longer, and he was going to search a little further, a little longer. But she found no hatred in her heart, no anger—you imagine all these things you want to say, but you see the person and you cannot think to wound them in any capacity. Not only this, but there was the part of her that felt he had not come back for her at all, but to be with his remaining brother. Avarice and avaritia demand she do something—she was not soft, nor particularly sweet.  

It was her shock that caused her remaining stillness, and perhaps some disbelief, too. Perhaps she had ingested some of Lyra's newfound herbs on accident.

As the dusky tip of his snout ghosted across the tufty hairs at the base of her ear, Hydra withdrew and Rian froze, waiting as she pulled away so that she might take in the sight of him. Or commit one final judgement. He had returned to Moonspear with nothing to show for it—Cypress, for all he knew, was gone. Lost to him forever. The decision to abandon his search was still a difficult notion to swallow. Doubt suggested that the swarthy Frostfur could still be out there and in need of assistance, or encouragement. Or perhaps he was simply—

The spiraling thought was abruptly stalled by the voice that had consoled him even in the darkest hours of the bitter season. One ear swung back, then forward in an indistinct gesture suggesting both uncertainty and guilt. There was little to be done for it now; the season passed, and her time ultimately wasted, but Rian was—despite everything—still alive. Still breathing, with a heart that drummed a beat which matched the longing of his wild soul. One that, he hoped beyond all reason, could find a counterpart in Hydra.

A furrow appeared between his brows as they slowly knit together in definite concern, and no small measure of confusion. Rian had little reason to worry after Rannoch—his rugged, affiable brother was more than capable of handling himself not to mention he had the support of his mate, Liffey, and the Vale itself. He shook his head and lay his ears back, disregarding the prickling disquiet that burrowed into the base of his skull when Hydra admitted she knew little of their whereabouts. Certainly the Alliance had held up in his absence? As sure as the sun, the pair were like to be preparing for their first litter and Rian had little intention of squandering his own prime in his brother's shadow.

Rian exhaled while a warm smile illuminated his dark features, evidently bemused at her odd behavior—did she really believe he had come all this way for the bachelor pack? Again his ears pitched forward and, in his eyes, a glimmer of something almost reverent.

She watched his features morph as he contemplated what she had said, but he had made no move nor asked no inquiries to suggest his priority lay with those that had left her. In fact, quite the opposite; his expression morphed into one that did not reveal to her he had any designs to leave, now. Still, she had to be certain. 

So many wolves had come and gone, and she could not deny her desire for this one before her to stay. 

He made no move to leave, and Hydra took a step forward. You are here to stay? She asked once he said nothing to confirm her fears. Her own ears leaned in his direction, wanting to hear him say or do something to confirm this—Hydra's eyes sparkled with the light brought by undeniable newfound hope, something that would only ever be snuffed by his departure.