Moonspear a marked deck

@Tye

Without having met him, Alya had developed a very poor opinion of the purported Omega. It was a shame because she knew cowardice and churlishness were not hallmarks of the position itself; Hydra had become good friends with Gannet, even if Alya was not at all sure what had come of that friendship.

She sought him today to form her own, proper opinion of the man. She tried, as she trailed him, to empty her mind of prejudice, but it was difficult when she was already so on-edge, thinking about the struggles that were sure to come to her mountain. Would the omega be a help or a hinderance to them? She had been so conditioned by experience to assume all those outside her bloodline wanted only to use them, even knowing in her mind that it was not so. Nikai, after all, shared no blood with her, and had proven to be her most trusted ally aside from her sisters themselves.

As his scent intensified, she made more of an effort to hide herself in the brush, intending to hunt the omega until he detected her presence — and perhaps even still, if he proved as destestable as she feared.

Hydra had given him a myriad of tasks with which to prove himself, and it was the foremost need that drew him through the woodland of the mountain: the replenishing of caches which he had been given to eat.
After finding a cluster of well concealed pits to refill, he sought to map the area and find a suitable offering with which to fill them; with only the grim auburgine light of a fading dusk to guide him (and a heaviness leftover from his latest day of sleep) Ty was making poor progress.
There were few signs of terrestrial life here; no doubt frightened off by the resident wolves and various calamities. He thought on a few occasions that he could hear something moving in the dark, but each time he paused or cocked his head at attention, it would stop. Thus far the omega was oblivious to being stalked.

As a child, Alya had not known pity. It was something she had taken painstaking care to learn. Something she had first mimmicked in others, but that had eventually come to life in the pit of her stomach, in the dark and secret atria hidden away in her chest. It was a feeling she hid from her sisters, and feeling she felt now as she watched the boy. Pity and something else. Hunger. Hatred. Revulsion. She did not know the name of this feeling. She labeled it bloodlust in her mind, but in her heart, knew it was something a little more like shame.

The omega was a boy — only just past being labeled a yearling, and not quite old or venerable enough to be considered an adult by Alya, who felt understandably but prematurely aged by the sudden deaths of her parents. He looked thin and not quite alert, but seemed to be working dilligently, to some end. She wondered, dully, where he had come from, and whether she would not soon be eating him, or feeding him to hungry young mouths.

The shewolf stalked a while longer, controlling the urge to bounce forth and attack — would it be cruelty or mercy?

Instead, she stepped purposefully on a large stick, emerging from the brush so that her eyeshine glinted from the shadows of her dark face.

He had the lethargic mien of a jungle cat but it did not suit the long sinuous quality of his body, the feral serration of his dull coat, although there was something predatory behind the sleepiness in his eyes. An innate desire to exist against the odds, maybe. Very little focus manifested as he peered in to the dark.
Something stepped alongside his path again, the crack of the underbrush like a livid ember trying to catch. He pulls his attention to where a dark shape comes slinking forth, and he thinks it is Hydra at first. Malevolence drips from her in waves. Seething shadow manifesting limbs, a body - blue eyes looking black until the light catches them, then a brooding azure.
The boy buckles immediately. The dirt is cool against his chin and belly, crunching beneath his shoulder as he rolls to flash his soft underside, unguarded. His eyes look large where they are fashioned in their sunken sockets.
He wonders swiftly, falsely, if he has been too slow - if he has lost the queen's favor so fast.

Almost as soon as he spotted her, he collapsed into ineloquent surrender. The action — and subsequent inaction — served to both mellow her desire for blood and to whet her appetite for cruelty. He was vulnerable, and she had spent so long stamping out vulnerabilty in herself that it was second-nature to stamp it out in the world around her.

But there was no call for that. He had acted according to the laws of the pack, and had been — seemed to have been — performing some kind of duty. Just what still remained to be seen.

Alya stepped fully out of the shadows, stepping over him with a low growl that warned against any aggressive or even defensive movements. She sniffed delicately at his throat and nipped at his rump to see if this would garner any response.

He doesn't know if averting his gaze is enough; there is danger here and his body signals with red flags, mental klaxons blaring, telling him to keep her trained in his vision at the same time. As she looms over him he feels tense. His hindquarters wriggle and his tail is a whip, sweeping aside dirt and debris manically.
As she nears his throat Tye resists the desire to flash his teeth. It is difficult. If she has deemed him a waste already then there is little he can do about it.
A nip, then, to his hindquarters. His bony feet kick out in a spasm like a cricket caught upside down. Narrowly missing her blunt snout and many eager teeth. The boy croons a low sad note in the back of his throat; a nervous whine that quiets as hastily as it starts.

The proper boxes were check, and thus, Alya checked her desire to rend flesh from bone and retreated several steps, ceding the ground she'd taken from him once more and — with increased distance — allowing him room and ample permission to stand.

"What are you doing?" she asked, shaking off some of the aura of aggression as she decided she would not be attacking at this time. He had done nothing to offend her, thus far, and her mission this day was to determine his worth to the pack. Hydra had seen something in him, and it was now Alya's turn to be sure that it had not been sentiment.

The trouble, it seemed, was that Alya had grown rather sentimental herself. He was a boy, and she had seen so much death and devastation, lately. Perhaps she desired to see something bloom, for a change.

His life would have flashed before his eyes if he'd lived at all, but no such experience would transpire. If she had chosen to rip his throat out for whatever inconsistent damage he had perpetrated, he would have only seen blackness, a swarming dark that would snuff the life from his ember-like eyes.
When she withdrew he breathed a little easier. He rolled to his side, head nearly level with his rigid shoulders and ears slicked back with a limp quality typically reserved for children; he snakes towards her and licks the air furtively, catching her chin.
What are you doing? Asked the queen.
Her voice was different; not as heavy, not as level. Lilting, but still cold. He does not question that this might be a sister for Tye does not know there are so many blue-eyed monsters upon this mountain. He withdraws slightly as he says, Hunt.

Alya's tail flickered in idle appreciation at the male's clear deference. His supplication was patiently endured, and when she had his answer, the shewolf found the fires of her bloodlust almost entirely doused. Whether or not he proved himself to be loyal, they were packmates for now.

"We will hunt together," she decided, passing one last, lingering look over the male before starting off along the same path he'd been wandering. There was very little prey scent, but she hoped they might come across something.

The shewolf picked her way along the path, apparently ignoring the male, for the time being. She split her focus between the trail before her and the boy behind her, one ear turned almost but not quite in his direction. She did not expect to be attacked by him, but it never hurt to be cautious.

It took this long for him to notice the subtle difference between the shadows. This one was not so pointed in her comments, for starters. She was content to aid him while the other - the true queen - directed, delegated. It struck him with some surprise as she moved away with the intent to prowl, as he had not expected any help.
In thinking of her as the queen, Tye was briefly perplexed. She moved in a more fluid manner; Hydra more boorish, more brazen. This doppelganger was just as silent but with more of a leonine stalk.
The boy was transfixed. He was watching her more than the trail and likely overlooked a few clues, but the mystery flooded his brain; were there two queens, or one with many faces? He followed dutifully at a scramble, but could not focus beyond the woman.

Though she sense that he was following, apparently having accepted that they would not hunt as a unit, it took several long moments before Alya divined that he was not actually hunting with her. It was his eyes; she felt them tracing the liquid grace of her stride. This went on for some time before she finally snapped her head toward him, hoping to catch him in the act. His burnished gaze, however, seemed more confused that lustful.

The shewolf's countenance softened once more.

"We haven't met," she said, turning her body toward him, each movement measured carefully so that she did not seem to be attempting to cow him. "I am Alya, sister to the queen. There is another like us. Lyra. Perhaps you will now be able to tell us apart. It doesn't matter. She sees through my eyes, and bites with my teeth." She looked on him a moment longer, and then offered a toothy smile. "But I am the friendly sister. And it is my kindness that will aid you today."

Swiftly the woman shifted and caught him in her eye, and he tensed, sensing in her some form of malevolence soon to be bestowed upon him for daring to keep watch, for the easy miscommunication of a challenge he would not knowingly present. She saw through his curiosity; softening as she spoke, and with simple words broke the spell cast upon him.
Sisters - he should have been smart enough to realize! Tye mentally made note of the names, yet became distracted by a swollen negativity as well; berating himself for being so mindless in his assumptions. A spell - magic - how very foolish!
His face split in to a pant, teeth visible in a wolfish grin as the unease finally fled from him like the looming presence of a cloud. He had nothing to say - and soon focused his attention on the hunt in earnest, eager to get to work while serruptitiously studying glimpses of this woman.

Alya found similar difficulties in focusing solely on the hunt; she did not fully trust the male, even if she could not fathom what he might gain from behaving untowardly. All the same, she was aware that not every wolf needed a reason to be evil. For some, not even the power of friendship could be weilded on them to any noticeable affect.

Still, she did soon pick up on the scent of a lone and sickly hare. Her nostrils twitched as she took this in, and she looked to Tye to see what he thought. Likely, it would take a lot of digging to earn their meal. Would it even be worth the energy they burned?

At the same time, she had a feeling they would not soon get to choose whether or not they ate.