Moonspear Leave me your wake to remember you by

It was as Dragomir feared: Isilmë was gone again. He hadn't seen her for a month and all of her scent trails on the mountain were growing stale. The most recent one was already a week or two old. The places he knew her to sleep were cold and abandoned. It didn't take long for him to conclude that she'd left him once again. Last time was involuntary and he'd felt incredibly guilty about not finding her sooner in spite of the energy he'd spent looking for her. He'd vouched for her on her return, put his word on the line, and she'd let him down.

This time, the anguish was colder and angrier. This time, he wouldn't waste his breath. It seemed she was right. She was more like their mother than he'd thought, for even if it was involuntary, she must've put herself in bad situations for this to happen at all. And they weren't hungry kids anymore. They could fight. They could hunt.

With an uncharacteristic glower marring his handsome features, Dragomir climbed the slopes in search of @Hydra. Recently her scent on the mountain was amplified, changed in ways that made his stomach clench of its own volition. He didn't know why and he didn't understand the sensation, so there was no intention behind any of it—simply the natural reaction of an unrelated male wolf to a strong female in heat. His sexual immaturity, coupled with the fact that Hydra was like an adoptive parent to him, made it more uncomfortable than anything. For that reason he'd avoided getting too close to her, but it was crucial that he speak to her now on the subject of his missing sister.

Her season had her, naturally, preoccupied; she kept away from the borders so as to not risk any errant men coming near for the strength of it, and the beacon that it was. For the most part Hydra was with @Dirge—hunting, playing, sparring—but this hour found her (temporarily) alone. No doubt Dirge was somewhere near, not inclined to let others too close (curious sons included)—but as she rest beneath a large coniferous tree her mother had once favored, the matriarch opened one eye to find herself by her lonesome. Near enough to a lake for Hydra not to think anything of it, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and yawned. 

Stretching, Hydra soon came to a stand and settled on her hindquarters. She looked unkempt (albeit well-rested), and noting this she began one of her typical rituals of grooming herself and putting her furs back into place with her teeth. It was soothing work, and distracted her from the ever-burning fire that was lit within her while Dirge likely quenched his thirst. The sound of anothers approach was heard even through the fog Hydra waded through throughout her season; she paused in her ministrations to look toward the direction that it came from. Her own scent was too strong for her to depict who this scent belonged to, though as deep as she was within the territory Hydra did not suspect trespasser. 

Still, even in her repose Hydra appeared at the ready to disarm the other should that be the case. Her eyes held fast to the direction she heard the sound and she was silent herself; her scent spoke volumes, and it was not something that she could hide in the thick of it. It was hard to really think in it, and yet she held onto that sliver of clarity as her self-preservation took precedence.

The further he went up the mountain, the stronger Hydra's scent got... and a new scent, too. He swallowed thickly when an errant breeze blew it into his face and a mixture of pleasant and unpleasant feelings coursed through him. It lacked for him the sharp, pungent notes that only a mature male could detect, but it nevertheless had an effect, albeit a more minor one. He still had all the right parts to perform all the motions of an adult male wolf even if he lacked the reproductive drive of one, and being unrelated, her scent was more alluring than off-putting to him, so it was unfortunate indeed that it only got stronger as he honed in.

By the time Dragomir found her, there was a raging downstairs situation happening that he did his very best to be discreet about. It wasn't an uncommon predicament these days as he morphed from innocent juvenile to awkward adolescent, but usually when it happened, it was because his mind was wandering in ways it shouldn't. Not because his Alpha female and mentor smelled absolutely delicious. The very notion that she was the cause of his reaction was deeply disturbing to him on a number of levels.

Still, he was but a child yet who lacked the bold, single-minded focus that her scent would otherwise engender, so his reason for seeking her out naturally remained unchanged. Clearing his throat nervously, the boy turned his gaze away from the dishevelled Alpha female and asked, his voice tight, Hydra. I... was wondering if Isilmë had told you if she was leaving.

It was Dragomir. Her ears, which had been leaning forward in the typical prelude to her aggression, fanned backward as she registered who it was that had come to her. Typically, Hydra was perceptive enough to observe such things, given her uncanny ability to pay attention to detail—but here and now, she was able to depict very little. Given the nature of their relationship, Hydra had never looked to Dragomir as anything but as her family—she was keen enough to snap at her sons to keep their distance, but showed more restraint then and there. 

Likely because of the unwitting little devil in the detail of their own relationship. Though she considered him blood, he was not. 

His voice was tight, but Hydra had been busy thinking of things she ought not to be thinking. Truly a bitch in heat, the matriarch had but one desire this time of year. She blinked out of her daze, having not heard him whatsoever, and her own gaze held fast to him then as she realized he lingered still. Had he asked something?  Dragomir, she drawled, and blinked again. You asked something—I am sorry, I am... not myself. It is my season, she explained, hoping he might understand that conversations of import, then and there, might not get very far. 

But they could try. The affection Hydra felt for Dragomir was purely maternal in its nature, but then and there the lines were tenuously blurred. It was that affection, though, that caused Hydra to want to help him, sensing his concern. So she looked to him, still listening—but this time paying more attention as her expression seemed to request he ask again.

The longer he stood there, fixed in Hydra's hazy heights, the more dry Dragomir's throat grew. The more confused his prepubescent body became. His parents hadn't been around to give him The Talk™ and he hadn't caught Hydra's drift during that pack meeting a little while ago. There was immature boyish desire blossoming in his stomach and making his nether regions horribly sensitive, but coupled with his juvenile inability to understand the purpose of such a feeling, it was mostly just uncomfortable for him.

He didn't understand what Hydra meant when she said she was in season, but she was wreathed in that tantalizing scent and he couldn't help but to take a tentative step closer. He licked his dry lips and averted his gaze, flinging his tail low as he repeated his question: Did Isilmë tell you if she was going away on a trip or something? I can't find her, seemed to be the underlying concern.

Another tentative step, his body moving of its own accord and without his conscious input. His voice was bold, but coloured in shy tones as he asked, could you, ah... stop doing whatever you're doing? It's really distracting. More importantly, his body was being really distracting, but either way it was her fault.

Hydra's ears pricked as Dragomir asked his question. This time she heard him, and Hydra looked as though she had remembered something. Ah; I tasked her with finding Ying, a she-wolf who seeks to build an army, which could be of benefit to us. We each had a squabble, though in the end Ying recognized her error. I wanted Isilme to see what Isilme's judgment might be, she informed. It was important that Ying's actions truly have been impulse that had then be curbed than her attacking at random as it pleased... but she trusted that Isilme could hold her own by now, with her training. That Isilme did not inform Dragomir came as some surprise to Hydra, given she knew how much her brother cared for her... but perhaps she simply wanted to get the job done, and come home. She should be returning soon; it is a few days from here, Hydra drawled. Hydra did not know that Ying had extended her trip within the Wilderness; she imagined Ying would be returning home to discuss the new developments with her sister. 

She looked to him and he was another step nearer; for her own part, Hydra did not move. She had told her children much of heat and what it meant, though had not been able to spell it out for Dragomir or his sister more than she had at the meeting for her own preoccupations with the season. In part to curb the season of others, though also to embrace her own. This is heat, Hydra drawled, and as alpha female, this scent is my right and my right alone to bear upon Moonspear—unless another she-wolf has been granted breeding rights by Dirge and I, she informed. When a she-wolf bears this scent, she can become with child. It lasts... for a week. Only an alpha female can stop the heat of another woman... males cannot resist it, she supplied him with this information readily enough, her ears pricked forward as she recalled Speedy. Some she-wolves cannot control themselves. It is why they must be put out of heat, lest they try and breed with every man in the Wilds. Others... others can have some awareness, but even she was losing the lens of that; Hydra blinked, then, remembering she was talking to Dragomir. What had they been speaking about? 

Where was @Dirge, too? She shifted her weight, that ancient itch returning—though it made her skin crawl as she looked to Dragomir. Son. She could put him to a task, and she would. You can resist this scent this year, but only just; my brothers and sons will, wisely, be avoiding me. Still, you must assist in the protection of me so none might take advantage, just as they do, Hydra drawled. Dirge did too, though was not here now; here came that longing. Sit. Stay. With Dragomir still there, she knew that to stand would be to tempt him further—the scent was stifled some this way, and instinctively she knew to linger this way for now. And ensure that while I am busy, they, too, are not busy, Hydra drawled. Saddling him with this responsibility felt right—she wanted him to lead, and so, what better way to see how he handled that task with this starter-quest?

Hydra answered him easily. Maybe it was the fact that his groin hurt or maybe it was his never-ending anxiety regarding his family, but irritation flared hotly in his belly. Why didn't anyone tell me? he demanded before checking himself and flattening his ears. Tch. Apparently neither Isilmë nor Hydra felt any need to keep him informed of what was going on so he wouldn't need to worry. She'd already disappeared once and she'd been gone so long this time he could only assume the same. Why hadn't they said something?

He was too addled and confused by his swirling feelings to really heed a lot of what Hydra said, but when she suggested that men couldn't resist, a purely masculine affront made him step back. It explained some things. If men were merely puppets to something so silly as a scent then he could see how his father and his mother thought producing he and Isilmë was a good idea, but he would never be like Vercingetorix. I can control myself, he claimed. Just because he was aroused didn't mean he needed to act on it. Maybe it would be different when he was older, when his instincts bade him to do what nature dictated, but right now he mostly felt confused rather than compelled.

To hear that she required his protection was ridiculous and flattering in equal measure. Ridiculous because Hydra was more than capable of protecting herself. If there was any wolf who could fight off any assailant, it was probably her. Flattering because Dragomir was a young man with a young man's budding pride and any sort of stroke to his ego was empowering. Leave it to me, he said, having forgotten whatever else it was he wanted to talk about. He turned, gave one of his hind legs a shake to try to quell the discomfort building in his loins, then made to stride away and patrol the perimeter in Hydra's vicinity. Protect. He could do that.

His inquiry was a fair one, and no rebuke came as he acknowledged his tone had been inappropriate by himself. Her mind drifted, as the season would have it do, again to that seasonal itch... but she saw the hurt in Dragomir, and seemed to sober for a moment despite the heat that prickled at her skin, again trying to grip its fingers upon her brain. I had thought this time, she would tell you, Hydra admitted, and my own season came before I could. It is an all-consuming thing, this week long matter. I did not think to even call; it is a time where thinking is not truly involved. A primal, base, and instinctive time, she informs, feeling overwhelmed by those instincts. Hydra was not immune to them; it took very much so all of her energies to expend on using brain then and there. 

She could not sit for much longer! 

And her ability to articulate was dwindling; Hydra did not know if she was making sense. She tried, she tried—for her love of him, she did!—but to explain to one who was not yet old enough to feel, perhaps it might make sense. One day, it would. As he spoke of being able to control himself, Hydra shifted in her seat. For now, she trusted in that. What would the future bring? Children, her children, more brothers and sisters... 

Hydra rose to a stand at last, ear flicking atop her crown as she nodded in thanks before he departed, eyes bright with her appreciation toward him. 

Hydra trusted him to the task she had given, to protect when she could not to fulfill her other duties. A streak of pride ran through her chest as he went, and adoration too. Hydra herself turned to streak deeper into this stretch of the area she and Dirge populated, impatient now to fulfill her baser desires.