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

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.