Moonspear BWP3—Dragonstone

The world quivered and quaked. Hydra kept her cubs close, these days, and did not leave their own side. Even they, content to range and permitted to do so in days past, seemed to understand the severity of this. Hydra gazed out into the horizon; from Moonspear, she could see smoke rising in the far distance. The vantage point of their mountain yielded brilliant and terrible sights; Hydra grit her teeth as she watched the smoke roll. 

She looked to @Atlas and @Osiris and @Vega and @Antares and felt fortunate for their proximity and obedience both, this day. The world beyond is not a safe place at present, Hydra informed them, seeing in the reflection of their gaze the chaos of beyond. as I suspected. Natures upheaval is without reason, and we as wolves are not the cause of it... though I imagine some might blame some sort of faith or perhaps being for it, she drawled, thinking of what little she knew of others and faith. The extent that she could recall was its existence... but Hydra was a heathen, believing only in the natural law of the wild. It would be best to remain close to me or your father until the chaos ends, Hydra did feel as though any could be overwhelmed and succumb to the will of nature, should they be caught... and the queen would not have her cubs be a victim to this. 

If you do leave our side, and the protection of Moonspear in these times, there are consequences. Perhaps death, perhaps deformity, perhaps a terrible starvation you may not wish to even survive. I would kill for you, my children. I would act as nature herself does now to protect you, had I her power. But no one does. I can only guide you, and I will; in this, you must listen to me, her harsh blue gaze was hard as she looked upon them. Am I understood? Hydra's look advised that she wanted to hear that they did.

Even before hearing Hydra's warning, Vega had no plans to leave the safety of her mother's side. She had noticed even the slight tremors weeks ago, and while there had been no major destruction to the mountainside, the feeling of the earth shaking beneath her paws was unnerving. Of her own volition, she had been sticking close by, foregoing the exploration of the rendezvous site that so beckoned her.

Despite the fear that quelled within her, though, Vega put on a brave face. Hydra spoke of death, deformity, starvation -- and while she schooled her face into a careful mask of solemnity, a shiver raced unbidden down Vega's spine. She wanted to curl up beneath her mother's belly, press against her solid warmth and soft fur, but instead, she simply nodded. She did sidle a little closer to Hydra than usual, but other than that, she tried not to let on to her inner anxieties. "Yes, Mother," she replied dutifully, her gaze darting to the untrustworthy wilderness beyond the protection of Moonspear.

He stayed close enough. Sometimes, it verged on the very edge of what could be considered such, but he obeyed his mother's law and enjoyed the watchful protection her nearness brought them. Badly he wanted to explore more, and it was not always easy given the glimpses they had--but the time was not right, not should they function with the future in mind. Nature was too unpredictable right now, far more than usual. Not only did their mother's words say so, but nature herself gave them spectacle to see it firsthand around them as the stormy sea rose and the mountains far on the horizon smoldered.

Antares found it difficult to pull his eyes away once they had locked onto the faraway pillar of smoke. The details of it and what all it could mean were utterly lost on him, but from up here on high on the Spear, he could fathom no view more expansive to behold how ominous it was. He knew it couldn't be good, but from this far away there was something particularly eye-catching about it anyway.

Antares had settled onto his haunches not overly close to the rest of the brood, but near them and their mother alike. It seemed to be what suited him best, a spot on the edge where he could watch carefully, or slip aside if necessary into whatever motion might call. Yet slowly, and behind a heavy dredge of reluctance, he did pan his sights to his mother long enough to nod. Yes, he affirmed, lingering on his siblings before returning to watch the smoke again. He did want to hear more, and took her words to careful heart. Beyond this moment now, it was the best of what he had.

Of their grouping, he had drawn up the rear as a quiet sentinel. The distant smoke across the sky was a certain omen if he had ever seen one and by the time they had rounded up the children to see from that particular vantage point it had begun an ugly smear across the horizon. His nose worked in futile to sense it—it was too far out, though it certain concerned the rest of his working senses just fine.

Whatever hopes he had of a final venture before the turn of the season had been promptly dashed to bits when the quaking started, but this certainly drove the final nails into the coffin. Where did the land burn? He could not discern from there, the haze and distance too great, and could not know if they were lands he had crossed before and whether or not they would have matter to use as fuel. With autumn there, there was plenty of kindling about.

From on high, he could feel the chill of an early winter stirring yet.

Hydra did not mince words with what could potentially befall them, and Dirge did not miss the uneasy shift of Vega before him. Gently, he comforted her with a touch of his nose to her head. There may have been little they could do collectively, but it was his silent reassurance that he would also let nothing harm them. While Antares was the last to join in with his voice, he saw that Atlas and Osiris understood as well, and in example he too set his gaze on Hydra to listen. She had covered the bases and he had nothing more to add.

Each of her children nodded their mutual understanding; Hydra would see to it that they did. She would teach them all to be true to their word, and of the worth of a wolf who could not keep that—she would not have her cubs grow to become liars. Her gaze turned to her mate who, in his silence, agreed. Hydra finished with: the world may continue to shift and shake as it does. It would be best to never grow too comfortable, and to always be aware. Hydra would ensure this; she would train her children to run as fast as they could, should rocks slide their way—how to avoid it. How to survive. She worried about teaching them to hunt, if the prey was so scarce; how would they learn beyond what they had already seen? It seemed pointless to think so far ahead and worry, and so Hydra did not let the thought linger. When they arrived to that point, they would deal with it. 

Vega moved nearer, but Hydra did not coddle her; she looked to her, though, mutely relaying that I am here. She gave Antares the same look; she and Dirge would guide them as best they could throughout these times, as new to it as her children. The woman wondered if Dirge might have any experience with disasters like this, but it seemed he did not. Well, this would be a learning experience for them all; they would seek to overcome this, as they did all adversity. 

She looked then to the horizon, ears flicking should her cubs have any questions to ask, lingering in silence. 

This can be a fader, or we can keep it going <3 Was waiting to see if anyone else had wanted to hop in ^_^ <3

Dirge's quick touch was reassuring, as was Hydra's glance; neither of her parents would sugarcoat things or try to hide the truth from their children. However, Vega knew without doubt that her mother and father would protect her, and the lack of spoiling and pampering contributed to her confidence and security in their love.

There were a myriad of questions swirling in her head, but she did not give voice to them; instead, she followed Hydra's gaze out over the changing landscape, thinking of the terrible things that could be happening beyond while she was safe here with her family.