Moonspear he tests his might against what his eyes can't see

The call of an owl from the trees lured the swarthy beast from his den and into the cold snow-touched mountain range. From there, he stood as a stalwart figure against the wintery backdrop and surveyed their claim with an unreadable intensity to his youthful frame. The outside world had suffered greatly from the natural discourse that had swept across the wilds. They had been fortunate not to have been touched by it. It was as though the mountain was immune to disaster and hardship. The only thing that had found them on their lonely peak had been the scarcity of prey.
 
Snow crunched beneath the weight of his large paw. From the mouth of the den, he moved carefully until he had found a jutting perch where the mountain seemed to stretch outward in order to view the land below. Standing on this point, Atlas peered at the frosty terrain and breathed deeply the scents that were wafted up from below. The young titan could pull the aromas of Arcturus and his mother from that breeze just before it became too cold for further inhale.
 
An agile leap brought him from his perch to the snow. From there, he set his path in search of the others.

I'll remove you from PPC! Just wanted to throw this post up.

 

Hydra shook out her ruff, pausing mid-trek to sniff idly at the air. No new scent trails of big game, not on the lower reaches; she supposed she would need to again inspect the higher points of Moonspear. Rutting season was upon them for the mountain goat, and Hydra had been advised to leave the courting beasts alone. The scent of them was nowhere as strong as it had been but a year ago, indicator enough that the problem that had arisen likely did not end at a certain height. Hydra could only hope there was something. 

Moonspear had suffered enough. Even nature had, someway, somehow, been given pause before it was taken in Her violent grip. The loss of her parents had been a different sort of devastation, but she still felt fortunate that at the very least Moonspear itself stood in one piece. Though one should not ask for more, Hydra still did, and sought it: big game. 

With a huff, Hydra continued onward, though her path was one that would lead her to the rendezvous. Sometimes she was met by on of her children along the way; as the days went on, they were allowed to explore more and more. Hydra encouraged this, but warned them against going to the borders without any adult. They had only just come to five months, the four of them, and still had much to learn. They were growing swiftly now, and Hydra was pleased to see it. Hydra's nose brushed against fresh snow, seeking any hint of a creature that had recently (or otherwise) passed by, but at this juncture there was only the scents of her subordinates to be noted.

The boy had not yet learned to track on his own. The Ostrega pups were still too young to have ventured into those lessons. It did not mean that he wouldn’t occupy his time with attempts. If they were to be positioned on the mountain until they were older, Atlas would take all that he could from his limited terrain. The scent of his mother had grown stronger, and so the young titan followed it with surprising accuracy. It was an aroma so familiar to him, it felt almost like second nature to trail after it. Hydra moved swiftly, though. The boy was forced to pick up his pace several times in order to remain on her heel.
 
When the distance between them had fallen to no more than eyeshot, the burly young beast was spurred to life. His large paws lifted and carried him as swiftly as they could. Only once or twice did he slip against a wet stone or sink too deeply into the snow before his paws found the earth. It was a feeling that he was not entirely accustomed to. So, fighting against a terrain that seemed almost foreign to him, Atlas conquered all that he could before pulling up several paces behind the blue-eyed leader of the mountain.
 
“Mother,” the young hound breathed in a smoky voice, filled to the brim with youth he had not yet managed to shed. The firelight gold of his gaze trailed where she had been looking. Atlas wondered if she had been preparing to venture toward the borders, or if her eye had been drawn by a passerby. Of course, he did not ask her, and those thoughts died away almost as swiftly as they had arrived in his wait to see if she would respond.

She supposed she ought to have expected one of her cubs to come across her where she stood, and yet she had not; one ear turned backward as the voice of Atlas registered, and Hydra lifted her head to look behind her so that she could see him. All was well, as far as she could tell with her eyes and nose alone; her notched ear cupped forward again as she looked back to the spot she had been investigating seconds ago. Atlas, come—and smell, here, she drawled, gesturing to the very spot she had sniffed out. 

Now was as good a time as any to begin to teach him how to follow a scent. She was not so certain if he had followed hers but she suspected he might have; perhaps the boy had a talent for it. Hydra turned and sniffed at the spot herself, gazing at her son with his snow-encrusted chest. Indeed, snow was new territory for her children... different to track on than dirt and grass. To fight on, too. All these things she would show to her children in time. Sooner rather than later, certainly.

Hydra turned to him before beckoning him closer and gesturing toward the earth; a spot that she wished him to smell. Atlas frowned thoughtfully at the direction before stepping to where she had made note. The broad-shouldered pup glanced toward her from the corner of his eye, bent his neck, and breathed deeply in the aromas that lingered in that place. First, he scented the lingering trails of his packmates and family members – those who had passed over that precise location countless times. This confused him, but only for a moment before he caught wind of something entirely different. The newest smell was like a lure, and Atlas was eager for a bite.
 
“It is…,” he paused, searching for the words that would best describe the sudden shifting in scent trail. The dark child was not always fond of speaking, and frequently preferred to remain silent unless it was necessary to engage in avid conversation. Even then, he was not very good at it. The occasional muteness that he had adopted was a decision and not a dysfunction of his social ability. When he had allowed his sentence to trail on for far too long, Atlas frowned and settled on, “different,” for his descriptive word. Golden eyes shifted sharply toward her, peering from the corners of his vision.

Hydra thought nothing of his quiet way; she had come to see he was not dull after all, and he had spoken enough when necessary that Hydra understood now that it was simply a matter of preference. He learned after all, and could listen as he did now. Indeed, Hydra drawled, licking her chops, it is. This is not wolfscent, but prey. Hare, it seemed like; small, but food was food. 

Shifting her own weight, Hydra lifted her head as her gaze remained upon her son. Try and determine which direction it might have gone in, she encouraged. The scent-trail was not too old, but plenty of things—such as her wolves—had disrupted it. Do your best to focus only upon that scent. I know there are many others among it, but this one different scent... remember it. Pick it apart for what about it is so different. She did not expect for him to be able to do so correctly this very moment, but that would be their task for now. He would, by the end of their lesson, be able to hone in on a scent at the very least, and know if the scent was worth pursuing or if it was best to leave be in favor of something else.

The scent of prey was far more appealing than that of his kin. Atlas raised his crown and squinted against the sharp glare of the snow on the earth. She had requested that he do what he could to track it. The stoic expression was almost humorous for his age, but it was far from a façade. The thin-lipped regard for the land that stretched out from beneath where they stood was unreadable. For several long moments, the dark mountaineer did not move from his place. The boy was savoring the scent of prey and what it meant; there was that hopeful premise of quelling the hunger in his gut. Even though he could not determine just how large this creature was, his hopes created a spurring of motivation.
 
Without warning, the dark child allowed for his limbs to carry him forward. He bent his neck and sniffed at the earth, hoping that he could draw the same honey-warm smell back to his palette. It was far more difficult than he had imagined it to be. Atlas attempted to separate the trails, hoping to narrow down his search, but the challenge was too great for him at that age. The dark titan prowled forward with a frown and a huff of air through widened nostrils. Then, he turned his head back to where Hydra had been, and he frowned with disappointment. Just as his lips parted so that he could request assistance, a touch of the wind carried that same alluring smell.
 
The gold of his gaze was pulled from his mother’s figure and he cantered to the south, grasping at his attempts to maintain that tang of prey.

Hydra was watchful, and curious as to what he might do. Though she had helped to raise her own siblings, she found being a mother to be entirely different; she had always been wholly invested, and yet she wanted more. It was frustrating, though she understood, when they were not as advanced as she hoped them to be—but it was natural, too, given their ages. No one was born an expert, but she would work to have them become just that. They were finally coming to the age where all this was possible, though they were not quite there yet. 

So when Atlas turned to her, Hydra felt disappointed for but a moment (though it did not show, and the feeling passed quickly; he was quite young still, after all, and this was to be expected). The wind struck them both next, and as Atlas looked toward it so too did Hydra. And then he was moving; she knew then he had noted it, and she encouraged him with a low rumble as she kept to his rear, following with ease.

The Ostrega children had entered a peculiar stage in their lives. They had all grown considerably over the last few months. Many of them had stepped closer to their adult shapes and sizes, with room still to continue that maturing. They were on the brink of reaching that full potential, but it was just out of reach and they were still so very young…
 
Atlas longed for the freedom to roam the borders of the mountain on his own. He was thrilled by the prospect of learning the hunt and using that in order to benefit those within Moonspear. All these potential outcomes were thrilling, but he felt stunted by the protective eye of their dutiful mother. Hydra knew better than her children, that was certain. It did not mean that their young egos were not compelled by the prospect of growth and power. In time, surely, they would become indomitable figures. The young beast could not help but to feel impatient with the idea of having to wait.
 
Charging toward where he believed the scent followed, Atlas did not pause to wait for his mother or turn his head to see if she followed behind him. Instinct told him that she was close at his heels and watching carefully. The pressure was motivating. Pausing in his venture, the burly shadow peered at their surroundings and breathed deeply once more. The scent of their prey seemed to have faded and he feared that he had lost the trail.

His mother followed, nonethewiser to his thoughts—though with him, she thought of how much he had grown. Hydra knew he had plenty left of it to do and go through, given the paw-prints she followed; as he headed onward, Hydra paused to place her own paw over his print. Larger than her own, she could see. And though she was pleased by this, she also worried—not for fear, but for how she could fill the bellies of her growing cubs when food seemed to be so scarce. So far it had not been so difficult, but they had been smaller then; they were each taller now, leggier. Not quite so big as their elders (yet, though it seemed they grew by the day and that the time for that would soon arrive), but they would grow to be. 

Her pause was brief; Hydra continued after him, and her eyes were indeed upon him. Her other senses focused on their surroundings; when he stopped, so too did she. She waited to see if he would catch that same scent once again, or if he had lost it altogether. It had branched off, and he was close to one end of it, but not the end; if he turned to reinspect where he himself had been, he might find the alternative branch to yield a stronger scent than the dead-end he might have come across. For her own part, Hydra indicated nothing, tongue lolling as her nose pressed against the earth. Hydra did not want to undermine her young son, nor intervene when he may not need it. Only he could tell her as much.

Sorry this is short. Holidays are so busy for me. Will hopefully be full swing in a couple of days. <3

The swarthy young man charged suddenly, catching only a breath of the prey smell that he had been searching for only moments before. The beast moved with confidence, shedding all doubts that he had fumbled this rare chance. Atlas did not even search for his mother, knowing already that she would be close at his heels. When the aroma died away again, he paused at the top of a stone perch and narrowed his eyes on the horizon. "I've lost it," he spoke, tone carrying his frustration. With a solemn glance, he turned back to where Hydra would be standing.

Totally fine!!! I know the holidays are a busy time of year <3

 

Moving at the pace he set, and adjusting it each time he did, Hydra idly sniffed and took stock of things as they went. Only when he spoke to her did she regard her young son in full, gaze settling upon him. She did not expect him to know all, but she wanted him to come to learn it. Her teachings would help. Tracking can take days, she informed him, ears twitching. It must not be rushed. Trails can shift, branch off and become broken—nature can make it disappear entirely, she drawled, having witnessed the elements do so for herself. What we came upon was the scent of hare. Their movements in particular can be erratic, to say the least; easy to lose. But it was no waste to work on the skill so he could learn how to use his nose, and learn that not every scent would yield immediate results. It was rare that it did. 

Hydra moved to meet him, moving up to stand alongside him on his stone perch. One day the two of them would not fit here, together, but here and now she was able to stand alongside him. Sometimes hints were given; often they could be easy to miss. A feather blended well in the crevice of the stone above him, laying flat and flush against it; Hydra sniffed at it. Hawk, it appeared. Indeed, nature took care of this creature. The aroma had died here no doubt for this, and she looked to him to see if he took note of this too.

The words that she offered were meant to provide guidance, but Atlas felt a cold seething sensation that could only be described as exasperation. To have failed so early in his life was something that he should have anticipated, but it did little to calm the blood flow or the sickening beat of his heart within his chest. Still, Atlas turned to his mother with a calm demeanor and nodded his head. He understood, regardless of his inner turmoil. In those moments of raw emotion, he vowed that he would not suffer those feelings again. Moving forward, he would grow his skills in the hunt and prove his worth.
 
“Next time,” the swarthy young boy remarked, his tone gruffer than it had been before, “I will not fail.”
 
Atlas stood closely at her side, taking note of the way in which she followed the scent and allowed it to lead her up and away from them. Was this the reason why he had lost it so suddenly? She glanced to him with an icy stare. For a moment, he did not wish to meet her gaze for fear that she might catch his feelings of foolishness in the glint of his amber optics. Steadying himself, he looked to her and breathed a sigh. It was obvious that he had not understood that their mark was capable of flight.

Hydra heard his words, and nodded. She hoped he would not; she hoped he would practice and learn from this. His youth and inexperience was to thank for his present one, and fortunately Hydra had learned through experience that this was the way of things. No one, herself included, was born able to simply do and succeed every time at that stage in their life. Good, she simply drawled, to the point. She would hold him to it; should he practice, she had no doubts that he would be able to. 

When he said nothing, the mother explained: the rabbits trail ended abruptly given a hawk plucked your mark from nearby. It has been said that their eyes are far better than our own; sometimes, this will happen. It has happened to me several times, she admitted, moving to meet him again to stand alongside him once more. sometimes a feather will betray it, but for the most part when the scent of small game we track simply disappears, we can safely come to that conclusion. She explained this to him so he would better understand that this was a natural thing. Hardly a failure; nature had a way of humbling the proudest creatures, herself among them. The matriarch understood that this was one thing she could not beat; unless the hawk was low enough to the ground that she could intercept it, there was nothing to be done for it.