Bramblepoint for neither ever, nor never

she's not thinking about drago, anymore, nor the moonspear wolves that had taken them in. in her rage, isilme is selfish, horribly, terribly selfish. flying through the wood, stumbling and falling and getting back up again, stale blood and bile still clinging to her pelt, she can think only of the thing their father had been reduced to, in death. she can still taste his fur between her teeth, and every so often twitches violently, the flies that had surrounded Verx's body still vivid. 

her breath catches as she falls onto her face, landing half on her side. scrambling, desperate, she lurches back to her feet. she can't possibly be still, can't stop moving. trembling, panting through bile-rimmed lips, she surges onward.

While her husband and Arcturus investigated the forest beyond for Vela and the children's father, Hydra herself had searched elsewhere. They would cover the territories surrounding and up until Neverwinter, today, and she would search the neighboring territory and Bramblepoint. There was plenty of ground to cover, and the truth of it was her hunt was more for Vela than it was the children's father as she hunted. She presumed, perhaps, he might have found Andraste—she could see for herself, but Vela had traveled in this direction. The purpose of this trip was not simply for them, but also to see if any prey could be found lurking—thus far, the rugged terrain offered her nothing. 

Her course eventually took her to Bramblepoint, where she had not the slightest idea a girl suffered. Hydra looked to the sky for a moment, determining that after this she would return home. The rest of the pack looked after her children for the day, and she trusted that number implicitly. They were loyal, and fierce; comforted by the thought, Hydra forged ahead. 

Can 10000% be a cameo, if Isilme wants to evade anyone from MSP! Just saw it and COULDN'T HELP MYSELF AHH

branches snap as she fall-runs through a tangle of undergrowth, barely keeping her paws beneath her as she plummets forward. she teeters, sidesteps, and by some miracle keeps her paws this time. her forepaw catches on a stubborn bramble, and she plummets sideways. 


crashing into a bed of leaves, she yelps when she learns they'd been covering wiry thorns. charging out of them, she manages only a few dozen meters before abruptly charging into the path of the mountain's queen, shock holding her paws as she halts clumsily, heart beating a staccato beat against her ribcage. "he's dead." she manages, in between frantic breaths. "he's fucking — dead and — it's not fair." it becomes more than just a nightmare, then, real and terrifying because she doesn't know if she can do it alone, because Dragomir—oh god, Dragomir, she'd left him there.

There was a sudden commotion to be heard while she walked; Hydra could hear it coming. It was the sound of chaos, disassembled—not the sort nature wrought, but a different kind. Hydra did not slink to the shadows to see it from a distance but instead look at the face of it. Her muzzle dipped easily over her throat, and the Queen braced herself, weight balanced on all fours; she prepared to evade as need be, or else meet it head on, depending—

But what emerged was not at all what she expected—who, even. Before her, in a discomposed disarray, was Isilme—out of breath, with a terrible stink to her, who speaks breathlessly. He's dead, the mercenary's daughter had said, and then, spoke of fairness—Hydra's demeanor shifted, stoic yet not at all unwelcoming as her gaze softened upon the frazzled cub. Death never is, Hydra shared darkly; Isilme had learned too soon this terrible fact. That thought again: too soon. Hydra took a tentative step toward Isilme, should the girl permit it, to sniff and discover who had passed—Dragomir? Or maybe her father, Vercingetorix. Perhaps the girl would think nothing of it, her attempt at nearness, but Hydra also sought to show her she was not alone as best she could. That in of itself would take time, but Hydra would not abandon her. 

How? She asked next, nostrils flaring to drink the scents that Isilme possessed regardless of proximity. What had done this? Nature's unpredictable fits, predator, or one of their own? Hydra, for her own part, remained a point of stillness, hoping the girl might somehow fix upon her and follow suit, if it was at all possible for her, amongst all the rest.

the queen moves near, and Isi does not react in the slightest. she is numb, so terribly numb, and yet Hydra's question manages to kick-start the logical part of her mind, barely discernible amongst the chaos of her thoughts. she blinks her eyes closed, ragged breath not slowing in the slightest as she thinks back. 

the blood, in the water, so much of it. bile, not his, but her's, dragomir's. the flies, buzzing, droning, deafening—

she blinks her eyes open and the queen is still there, calm, unmoving. she chokes back another sob ungracefully, gaze flying to the woman's features. think. a moment later, and it comes together. "killed. he was killed. so much blood, in the water—" a breath, and she's close to shutting down again, but hydra's stillness is something of an anchor, and she finishes, "his." from where, she does not know, only that it had surrounded him like a dark cloud. the knowledge that his death is by the hands of something, someone else has ice seep through her veins, and in the brief moment of clarity dread grants her, she thinks of that woman. it is a half-formed, dim thought, and it vanishes just as quickly as she slips into silence, gaze fixed on the mountain queen, trembling.

She could smell who had been found. Found and—

Killed. 

The solitary word in of itself was enough to cause Hydra's gaze shift to something more severe, ears cupped toward the pretty young girl. Blood in the water. His. Only his? She asked next, and after a moment of dark consideration, Hydra determined: I need to see. If there is a killer in our midst, your father will have his retribution, even in death, and, knowing there was nothing quite like the motivation of vengeance, she encouraged: I will need your help. Are you a fighter like your father was, Isilme? 

She did not hope for a smile—she hoped to stabilize. To ground the girl. To give her something to do with her grief other than let it fester. They would not weep over loss—they would destroy the cause of it, if possible, and in this instance it seemed so. Blood meant he had not drowned; it was not natures will, then, but of another. Cougar, wolf, bear... whatever it might have been, Hydra thought of her children—

Dragomir and Isilme were among them, now, too. Moonspear. Yes, whatever the cause, they would, sooner or later, see to its inevitable end.

The young mercenary's daughter answered her in turn, and led Hydra to the body of her father. Hydra was thorough in her investigation, but by now the scents of those that had done this were gone with the water his bloated body had been resting in. Hydra frowned at that; no nose was keen enough to work around natures cleansing. With a sigh, Hydra revealed as much to Isilme, candid, but finished with: the truth has a way of coming out—I will come to know who his killer is, sooner or later. Or perhaps you will catch wind of such a thing first. It is easier said than done, but we must be patient. In any event, it would be wise for you to keep to Moonspear for a time. Hydra had seen the body and knew one thing for certain: this was not done by cougar, or bear... but wolf. She cared for the wellbeing of Dragomir and Isilme, and knew she would need to teach them how to defend themselves should this wolf be a menace to the Teekons.  

Come, she drawled, gesturing to her side. Let us plot on how we will avenge your father, she offered, knowing that nothing quite inspired the quick turnaround of sadness like something productive to do with it that turned the terrible feeling into something that could be dealt with in a tangible way. Together, the two returned to Moonspear. 

fading and pp with permission <3