Moonspear dancing in the moonlight

Jarilo ran freely, and this pleased her. He threw caution to the wind and for her own part, she abided by it; she raced through the trees, never directly behind him but perpetually around him. She practiced her stealth, and hunted. When he zig-zagged, Hydra let herself be delayed to follow him, springing after him gracefully in the woodwork, though taking care to remain as silent as possible. Surely now and then he would hear the snapping of a branch beneath her paw when she misstepped—she was no expert, however adept she was, yet—but it was all quite thrilling to her, and surely he would feel a shiver of excitement or trepidation to keep him moving. Whatever worked. Hydra was tireless in her pursuit. 

Her tongue lolled from her mouth as she picked up her own pace, slowly but surely. Hydra figured she knew the terrain better than he did solely due to her experiences upon it, and he was only beginning to expand his range (she thought, having not truly tracked their progress in that domain) whereas she knew what would come with certainty. Hydra's eyes gleamed at the wall ahead of them, wondering what he would do, and anticipating all the outcomes she could in order to react accordingly.