Firefly Glen chef's out, kick it in

As discussed!

 

Hydra did not trust Markus either—not after observing him skulking too near to her borders for her liking—but did she dislike him? No; the truth of it was, beyond that interaction he had been entirely forgotten. The thing about ordinary wolves was they were forgettable; he had done nothing to stand out other than get too close. Even now this interaction between them was not one Hydra thought much of, and as for her personal opinion of him? It still did not exist. 

She cared for one thing, and one thing alone: her family. Tye was among that privileged number now, and she fought for him too. The meat that he had pilfered from the Glen was theirs, and he would not get away with it. 

Tye had been close, but not close enough; Markus countered with his teeth well enough for her initial strike to be little more than a jaw spar. That was alright, as her maneuver was rather lazy in its delivery to make a point he did not seem to understand: drop it and go. Foolishly he turned away from her, leaving his leg ripe for the taking; unprotected as he was, he made it too easy. 

Swinging her hips away, Hydra surged forward to attempt to grab his hind leg again, low, near his hock—this time as he moved, while he whirled—so that she might unbalance him as he reacted to Tye. Her goal here was to unbalance him as he moved; all the while, Hydra's own defenses were set while she moved—ears flat and eyes narrowed, her body a missile that moved in the same way Markus did so that he would find the weight he employed ideally overcompensated to the point of refocusing upon her, or his decision simply to flee, and forget the rabbit.