Moonspear little monster

Her daughters inquiry was met with a rumble of approval as she rose to all fours. Always, she added for good measure, very much so wanting this for each of them. Her daughter was still small, here and now, but Hydra took her training no less seriously for it. She encouraged her daughter with a long, low growl, baring her teeth; her tail swept in wide arcs behind her. Hydra would permit her daughter the first move, though already her defenses were set; her muzzle draped over her throat, her weight squared, and her ears pressed to her crown. She regarded her daughter with narrowed eyes, observing her for indication that she was being mimicked here as Hydra had taught them each of the importance of doing each of these things. 

She remembered the days she and her own mother would do this; how easily she had been bested as a cub! Even into her yearling years and beyond, her mother always ever seemed to be one step ahead of her; her father, too. With the lineage of two strong masters, it was no wonder Hydra was as strong and unyielding as she was. Though Dirge was no master of the trade her parents and herself had wielded, he was strong and hale, resilient and clever, resourceful, too—Hydra was eager to see what her own progeny would become, her hopes high.