Moonspear and still insists he sees the ghost

The firelight glimmer of sun peered through thick clouds and dappled the mountain in an ethereal glow.
 
Along the base of the looming structure, a dark shadow roamed the edges of the claim. The simmering burn of his hawkish yellow stare was trained well on the markings of their hold. Every few moments, the shade would piss against the dirt or a boulder. His scent was strong as he approached his first year – only a few months remained.
 
Turning his attention to the peaks of Moonspear, Atlas began his climb.
 
The child of the mountain had made the stones his home. His worn leather pads had been chipped and calloused until they had hardened against the harsh rocky exterior. As he climbed the first steep incline, his thick chest heaved with the breath that passed through him.

Hydra lingered on some rocky outcrop up above; she sniffed at brambles that had snared tufts of fur from deerhide and licked her chops. A hunt was due soon, and so she had begun her work to track the herd that had entered her domain and their progression. Hydra paused for a moment to investigate her surroundings; from her vantage point, she caught sight of black against stone and snow. 

She remembered the days such a climb had not been easy for him. She remembered him following her lead, or Dirge's, or her sisters, when he had been very small—the way he sought to keep up with them, and his struggle to do so when he was not yet able to navigate these routes as he did now. The sheen of pride in the gleam of her eyes was there and gone in a blink before she invited him to join her with a low, crooning howl.

That commanding summons pulled his ears back – swiveling atop his dark crown until he caught the breath of wind and the sound of her voice with absolute clarity.
 
The shade froze and turned his scruffy muzzle to his back, searching the expanse of rock and pale snow for the image of her dark body and her watchful blue gaze. When he finally locked on, the boy waited. His intention was not to trek back down to meet her. Though Atlas respected his mother, he would not divert his path to please her wishes, not in that moment.
 
Time had afforded the boy a great deal of growth and strength.
 
Lifting his head, the shade barked back to her. This was his request that she join him on the higher ledge of the mountain. From there, they could see the stretch of their claim with a keener eye and move in on chances of prey.

From her place above, she watched as his eyes sought—then found—@Alya, who stood watchful before departing—it was likely off to the borders herself, now. From above, Hydra corrected him with a bemused whuff of her own location. They were impossible to tell apart from the distance he was from them both, and so she did not fault him. Hydra was torn between the whim to meet him below and the instinct to follow the lead she had found; in the end, instinct won out. He might see tell of her own intent by the alert way she lingered; for her intuition told her that doing so would lead to his own hope of moving in on prey, and her mind held fast to that. Whether he joined her or not, she would not be at all offended; he was at an age where he could make his own choices and decisions. 

Licking her chops, Hydra swung around to once more investigate the brambles before her eyes honed in to another detail—tracks. Not terribly old ones, either; Hydra looked to the direction they led, and began to follow. If Atlas had determined to join her, or even if he was simply continuing on his way up, their paths would (likely) soon intersect.

Ah, he had mistaken his mother for her sister…
 
When the sound of her woof corrected him, he turned to see that the Moonspear leader was higher up. Her own trail had led her above him and into the rocky steps of the mountainside. The burly shade frowned thoughtfully. Once he had turned back to where he had seen Alya, the dark figure of his mother’s littermate had vanished. Like a shadow returning to the dark.
 
Atlas continued his pace, climbing upward until the scent of Hydra was much stronger. It was there that he paused and waited to see if she would intersect with his disarrayed path. Though there had been no set course for the shade, he had carved a steady trail into the mountainside with his steps and his intentions were to go higher.

As she moved ahead slowly but surely, investigating each sign left behind, her eyes soon found the form of her son. In moments he was there with her, and Hydra beheld him before him with a mothers eye. How large he had become! Larger than her (not a difficult feat to accomplish, given her average stature). With a bright look in her eye, Hydra drawled: you are as large as your grandfather once was, knowing well that she kept him alive in ways such as this. Stories, and little details shared. 

She gestured to the path ahead, and the tracks she followed; not up yet, but no doubt that was the direction—at some point—the herd went. The breeze carried with it the scent of @Dirge and Hydra hummed, hungry? Perhaps we can coerce your father into a hunt, she suggested, ears leaning forward some. The scent of the herd was strong—they couldn't be too far. Maybe Dirge had already found them.

Pride swelled in his chest, causing the shade to stand upright.
 
His youth had been filled with grand stories of Charon. To be so easily compared to him, even if it was just physically, was a remarkable feat. Atlas could not help but to feel a wave of vainglorious satisfaction. That hubris would either make him an indomitable tyrant or a powerful leader, but time would be the course corrector in that scenario. There was no telling what the future would shape him into.
 
“Do you think he can be pulled from his duties?”
 
The question was almost drawled, tone carrying a thick air of sarcasm. Dirge was a man who did well to spend time with others in the pack. Atlas had found his father’s nature to be infuriating and respect-worthy all at once. It had left the boy confused and curious but lacking the intention to push further into the lives and choices of his parents.
 
A smirk toyed at the edge of his dark lips. His eyes danced toward her with a fiendish glow.

She observed her son, who seemed to have forgotten how committed he was to his own duties as of late; she saw no fault in that, so long as he came when needed—which, he always had. Her eyes were bright as she drawled, oh, I think he could be convinced, with a wave of her tail and a smirk to match his own. Her mate kept busy as of late, no doubt partially due to her own spurning of his advances given her season not yet arriving. But it was near enough, now, where she desired to spend all of her days with him and incorporate him in each activity. 

Hunting with him was one of her favorites. 

Moving into a trot, Hydra continued after the trail of the herd. They had a mile or three to go it seemed. The scent of her mate seemed to mingle, now, with the trail—though only through the wind rather than the path that they followed. And as she suspected, it seemed they had elected to move upward into the forested upper reaches. The path that lay before them was not a difficult one, as fortune would have it—no doubt thanks to the quarry they followed. They were not as proficient at scaling difficult trails as the mountain goat.

Hydra was quick to respond, waving her tail to him and offering a quick smirk.
 
Atlas’ gaze fell away and searched the lower portions of the mountain for a moment. The golden flicker of his eyes did not return to her until she mentioned that she believed Dirge could be persuaded. There was hope in that.
 
It was true that the young shade had not been diligent in his own duties with Moonspear. He had felt himself as a prisoner. The more that he grew, the more he wished to leave the edges of their claim and venture out into the world. It had taken many long months before he had been able to do such things. With a fresh look at the earth they had claimed and what existed around them, the shade had found inspiration. So, he took to searching the borders for signs of weakness in their scent and tracking the odd animal that wandered up the peaks.
 
Just as he had learned, the shade followed Hydra. She led in pursuit of an aroma that had pulled her attention. As they passed along the stony front of their home, Atlas caught a whiff of Dirge’s presence, though he did not believe the man to be close. It was likely that his father was tending to more important matters.

The borders were relatively quiet, even on the cusp of the seasons changing. The ground there was damp and muddy; it was here that snowmelt had begun to pool even in spite of itself, and the varied terrain did little to dissuade it from such. But at least the herds were returning—finally. Better late than never, better now than never at all as he had not been one to desire to dwell on the possibly of what if for too long.

As it were, he did not know that he was being followed yet, but he too followed the herd. It was with the intention that to lay on eyes on them would be reason enough to rally the others, but Dirge wanted to see what the next bend would have in store for them. Would it be worthwhile? The scents suggested so—but he needed that confirmation.

The perspective of children was one she was quick to forget one she, herself, had once had when she was young enough to not know better. As a small cub, she often tried to explore beyond where she was permitted to—though her family was often able to intercept she and her sisters every efforts. It was a frustrating thing to be foiled... but some day, that all ended. Something changed—likely due to their age—and their freedoms expanded. Hydra was given the opportunity to see beyond Moonspear... 

But, in her opinion, nowhere ever matched up. All sights paled in comparison to the views Moonspear afforded her, and her family comprised its ranks. Why should she ever wish to leave that? Her loyalty to her own was surely only matched by those that shared her blood. 

Hydra pressed ahead. The trail was becoming clearer, now; her strides lengthened as she picked up her pace, pausing only now and then to circle a tree or, as she did now, inspect a pile of scat. Hours old, and not so many that they were out of reach. She stepped aside so Atlas could inspect it for himself if he desired to before she was on the move again. 

The tawny pattern of her mate was seen up ahead. Behind him, Hydra chuffed a quiet note of greeting; as she had suspected, he had detected the same thing she had. It was not at all an uncommon thing when something worthwhile came around—as leaders, they both knew that the hunt was one of the things that was essential to their packs wellbeing and always worth investigating. 

The shift in her gait was so that she could meet his own, ready to assemble the beginnings of the hunt should their eyes land upon their quarry. She, Atlas, and Dirge could begin to test the herd and observe—lessons she had instructed her children of, and that long ago they had witnessed themselves when there had been large game; some skill was inherent, too, and she felt certain their children carried that in spades.

The dark leader moved ahead of him, and the young shade did nothing to keep close to her. Atlas knew well enough that he could find her with the space between them. His interests were trained on the presence of prey aroma. The mountain seemed to fade away beneath that warm fragrance; the sunlight gold of his vision danced along the rocky peaks before diving down to where Hydra had located the sharper tang of the herd.
 
Once his crown had lifted, he noted that the dark figure of his mother had closed the space between her and Dirge. She was closer to his father than to him, but Atlas was not bothered by this. He watched them both from a distance, following the movements that were made to search out the herd that had passed through their claimed land.
 
From atop his perch on a jagged boulder, the shade froze to observe and waited to see if there would be a jolt of movement from Hydra or Dirge.

Hydra's greeting broke his concentration for only a moment as he glanced back, finding that she had Atlas in her company. He said nothing, but the gentle wave of his tail was enough to welcome them to join him in such observation, though it also became an observation of a different sort. His attention rounded briefly on Atlas as the boy took up a perch, and the father watched his son for several moments. Boy wasn't quite even the word for it any more, how well he knew, for the impressive cut of the swarthy lad resembled his mother far more than his father in more than just coloration. Dirge hoped there would be a hunt out of this—he wanted to see him perform without the distraction of his siblings.

"The trail seems to cut through a gully up ahead," he spoke softly to Hydra then, gesturing with his muzzle. "Haven't heard their call for a few minutes, so they've either bed down or they know we're close. They smell close, at any rate." A beat of silence slid in, then he wondered aloud: "Should we send Atlas on ahead?" Was he ready for that? Probably, it wouldn't have surprised him. He seemed ready.

Hydra considers, looking to the sky. It was near the time in which the creatures would bed down, but not yet—it could be either of the two, and the odds seemed even. At his inquiry, Hydra considered for a moment... though not for very long. Atlas and his siblings had arrived to the age where they could join the hunt, and Hydra had shared with him the same knowledge she had shared with the rest. All that could not be told was where instinct would guide. We should, Hydra drawled agreeably. Though he was not yet a yearling, he was in the process of becoming a man. The hunt was a part of their livelihood, their survival. She needed to trust that they were ready. 

So, looking to where Atlas stood, Hydra gestures to the path ahead of them to scout and inspect. Hydra imagined he knew what to do, and when he did not they both would be there to advise him. Close could mean one mile to ten, and she trusted Atlas to deduce what he could in the interim.

Onward, the shade followed the dark woman and her mate.
 
The rocky slopes gave way to a dip where, down below, their prey was likely bedding down for the evening. Carefully, the young Ostrega takes his place atop a rocky perch. His position was some several paces away from where Hydra and Dirge had halted their trek. The dark ears atop his crown swiveled to meet their words, if he should catch them. The duo seemed to speak in hushed tones. It was not until the shade had directed his attention toward his mother that he saw her carefully motioned instruction.
 
With a solemn nod, Atlas leapt from his perch and began the descent down to where their prey would be. His long youthful frame moved with assuredness that seemed to have been etched into the frame of the young man – a confidence that came with his name, his lineage, and his knowledge.
 
The shade moved in a large circular path, hoping to make his way around the prey and frighten it into running toward Hydra and Dirge. He had seen Osiris do it often enough to know its rate of success. The dark beast had high hopes for a filling feast.

Hydra watched her son, admired his prowess. 

Would there ever be a time she did not look upon her children and remember them as they once were? Gangly-limbed and awkward, their paws much too big for their bodies. 

He looked like a man; powerful, strong, capable. Her ears pricked as she watched him move with a self-assuredness granted to him by teachings, instinct, and learned experience alike. She stepped closer to Dirge, admiring the way their son moved in silence as he rounded the herd that had, in fact, been there. Hydra darted forward then, head squared between her shoulders; the visible presence of she, Atlas, and Dirge would surely unnerve the creatures. 

It would only be a matter of time before Atlas broke them into movement, and her favored part of the hunt could begin. Hydra darted right, monitoring their movements and listening for any cues that meant it was time to give chase. Atlas would be at the lead, as the young often were, and Hydra watched, and waited.

To the right she went, and he followed only to veer off towards the left to better cast a net, to potentially funnel what could be spooked into motion. His attention was rapt, focused solely on the task at hand; he caught glimpses of Atlas through the faint, leafless growth.

Somewhere ahead laid the herd, but he still did not yet catch snippets of them.

But that was the mastery of such prey—to be invisible when much of the world was predatory. To an extent they too shared this, but in the depths of a winter and its strong grasp, they would be seen. It was only a question of when.

Around the rocky slope, the dark boy followed the signs of the prey until he had created an arc that would allow him to approach from the opposite end. The intent was clear; he would startle the animals from their peaceful hollow and up to where the dark woman and her golden sword awaited to fell them.
 
Once he had positioned himself in an advantageous place, the shade slipped into his predatory state and prowled closer to them. The tension in his youthful limbs was remarkable. Atlas moved until he could all but taste the prey on his tongue. It was in this spot that he halted and latched his gaze on the gentle rising and falling of the breast of his target. Saliva pooled in his mouth just moments before his body burst forward and inspired the creatures to move with startled speed.
 
The prey was fearful enough that they did not seem to pay any mind to the wolves who waited on high. Their hooves clacked against the stone as they rose and darted toward the waiting maws above.