Moonspear When darkness speaks, it changes everything.

Making some vague assumptions here, attn: @Hydra

In the day following bloodshed on the glen, Dacio did not ignore his eagerness to rest. Exhaustion meant he slept fitfully for several hours, rousing only when the sun positioned itself in such a way that its rays felt almost blinding. The young warrior, eager to hurry the healing process along so that he might aid in the hunt for Osiris' attacker, grumbled inwardly and shifted his weight, curling closer to himself and snaking his dark muzzle beneath his tail.

Fuck off, he thought silently, grumpily, as the sound of morning birdsong sounded from beyond his cave. All he wanted was to sleep - was it too much to ask?

Hydra had thought she knew anger, thought she knew rage... in each and every one of its variables. She had become quite familiar with the emotions throughout the years. Betrayal, broken friendships, broken trust, the death of her younger sister, the return of Korei Julia, Speedy's deceit, she-wolves in their season not her own that tested her patience—

As it turned out, Hydra was wrong. Whatever she had felt through all that paled in comparison to when she saw Osiris, bloodied—beaten—

All she could see was his blood. All she could smell. Love, her young, little love, her boy, not a baby but my baby, who hurt my baby. Sadness, worry, his hurts were her own as she met him, assessed him, moved to sooth his wounds with a tongue that had only been so ginger when he was a mewling babe at her bosom.

There was no color in the paradigm, no word within the world that she knew of, that conveyed what she saw, what she felt, when she came nearer to him, to Dacio, when she smelled her. Dog of Caiaphas, of Merrick—Hydra nearly went mad with the knowing of it. Knowing made one powerful, but this—this did not feel powerful. Hydra saw her son wounded, Dacio beside him, and felt weak for the information that she gained. The famine had not killed them, the bastards! Childsflesh and wolfsflesh alike likely kept them fed. Hydra had dared to hope that fate had done away with them, but hope, that merciless thing, died, the sound of its final exhale not at all unlike the sound of her sons blood hitting stone now strangely enough. Wet. Strangled. 

Fuck hope. Fuck leaving it to fate. 

Hydra knew she must do it herself. And she would. Osiris was brought to @Lyra along with Dacio; Hydra, throughout, was silent. Hydra did not ask what happened before her son, and Dacio had helped him, she must let him rest—

But as they did, Hydra stared out into the twilit horizon, thinking. Planning. Hydra understood by now that if she left it to anything other than bringing the full weight of her might upon the plague of them... they would try to kill again. Perhaps they might succeed.

She could not afford that 'perhaps'. Hydra? Hydra would succeed. 

Dacio, Hydra thought. He had saved her son. Blinking, she realized then that it was morning. Hydra had not been able to rest herself. Even still she found she could not. The matriarch turned on her heel and sought the pale-furred male, and it was easy enough to find him given her sharp nose and his own recent trail. She peered into the space he occupied, wondering how he might be able to rest in a time like this. Queen though she was, Hydra would not deny him this if he slept still. He had fought for them, for Moonspear, for her son. So Hydra reclined onto her haunches and before long, slid to lay on her belly. Her muzzle rest upon her forelegs for now as her ears listened for any sound of Dacio stirring. Though her eyes were heavy, Hydra knew any sleep this minute would not be fitful. 

So, she lingered as a silent sentinel for her subordinate, senses occupied between him and their surroundings while she daydreamt of bringing the cur that harmed her son to a terrible, painful, and absolute end—along with those she seemed to care for. Maybe them, first. Ah, no—no point in being picky there. Dead was dead. That was all she wanted out of them.

redo. derp.

Just as his eyes fluttered shut once more and he willed sleep to take him, there was movement beyond his hollow. A dark ear swivelled in the direction of claws against stone, a working nose at the cave's entrance. He knew without even looking in her direction who it would be, yet despite the Queen's anticipated arrival he struggled to find the energy or enthusiasm to welcome her. For a silent moment he hoped she would simply pass him by, let him recover in peace - her son lived, did he not? What more dud she think he could tell her that hadn't already been shared?

Still, she waited. Hydra, a fierce mother raptor whose chick had been wounded at the teeth of her enemy, would be going nowhere anytime soon until she'd plucked from him every single minute detail she wished to use. Dacio exhaled breathily as he unfurled himself with a low groan, having underestimated the ache in his bones that was enough to prevent him from gathering to his paws to greet his Alphess. He lifted his head and pointed his speckled snout in Hydra's direction, tired pastel gaze searching her features to find exhaustion plagued her, too.

"Your son," he started, "Osiris. He has not worsened in the night, I hope?" It seemed like a good place to begin, rather than asking outright what it was that she needed from him when he was barely in any condition to stand.

Hydra had not asked anything of them upon their arrival home, not wanting to proverbially reopen the wounds both bore. Her priority then had been rest and recovery for the two, much as she wanted to press and pry. If he had told her anything, it had been missed by her; Hydra had only heard a terribly dull ringing in her ears, shellshocked by the sight of her son in such a state. The matriarch had hoped to have trained them enough for such damage to never be dealt to them... now, she would need to do more. Much more. And she would. The only thing she made sure to do was gather the scents upon them—as a master tracker, Hydra knew better than to pass up the opportunity to do so. It was this way she recollected but one of the scents she had first come across thanks to @Mal. 

She thought of the speckled male, too, as she lay there. He would need to know; Hydra had no idea in the slightest if any cubs would be had there, but if so, he must be made aware. The matriarch would not leave him in the dark—he was a part of this Wilderness, after all. Perhaps, she mused, they might even fight together. Hydra herself had no cause to dislike him personally; he had been perfectly accomodating when they had [last] spoken. 

Sounds of shifting then, and she was pulled from her thoughts to look over her shoulder. She found the tired gaze of Dacio upon her then, though then and there she did not have it in her to feel particularly guilty. Hydra was nothing if not a responsive woman; she could not rest if she did not think there was an immediate threat nearby. Her knowledge on the shade was limited to her scent, and the color of her coat. Merrick she knew had killed before, and had come to harm others; Caiaphas she had her own history with thanks to their father, and she knew that the seawitch must be quite adept to take her fathers sight; but the third companion had, thus far, only been guilty merely by association. Hydra had not been positive that she had done any harm herself in her own lifetime... not that it would have mattered, if she had not. Hydra would have killed her anyway; she was not one for loose ends if she could help it. 

Now, though, Hydra realized as she looked at Dacio in the gloomy cast of shadow over but half of him, the mystery companion had unwittingly given her more. 

His question was heard, and Hydra shifted to a stand to move nearer to him. Though she knew Lyra had tended to them some, Hydra wanted to review them. She was no healer herself, but a lifetime with Lyra had caused Hydra to glean some things. Entirely rudimentary, but enough. No, Hydra confirmed. Have you? she inquired firstly, before gesturing to a wound she could see. May I? she inquired in her next breath. The matriarch very much cared for his recovery, too. It would require rest, and she would let him—but while he rest, Hydra would work with the details he shared.

From between his lips came a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. It came in relief to learn that Osiris had not faltered through the night, that he would carry on to fight another day. Of course he would, Dacio mused, for he was a child of Hydra's womb. No babe to cone from her would ever give up that easily.

Following this simple exchange, the Queen turned attention to Dacio's own wound. It'd been tended to the best of Lyra's ability, though the discomfort that seemed to bristle beneath the skin had given him cause to nip and lick at the exposed flesh. It hurt, and would continue to do so for the foreseeable future, so deep had the blackbird punctured and tore at the muscles supporting his elbow.

Nothing that a Drageda-born wolf couldn't handle, of course.

"You may," he permitted, though who was he to reject? Hydra was his leader, and Dacio trusted her as such. He scooted to the side, pressed a shoulder snug against cold rock of the cave wall to make space for her, and outstretched his damaged forelimb for her examination.

Hydra heard the exhale, and her eyes beheld him in a different light. Hydra had always had an appreciation for the wolves of Roangeda, and an affinity toward them for their ways... but the affection born for them, and for Dacio, that they were vested within Moonspear and its young, her children... well, the matriarch was reminded again that they, Moonspear, were a family. And the harshness of her gaze—for all that had recently transpired—softened as she looked to him. 

The shade would pay for harming him, too. It was something she had known upon seeing him—he was Moonspear after all—but the weight of that settled on her shoulders. Hydra would be happy to defend him. 

Though it looked like it smarted, as he showed it to her Hydra could see that there was no scent or visible sign of infection. That had been one thing Lyra had enforced that Hydra learn. A small cut cannot kill, but the infection from it can. Her eyes traced it and she did not so much as grimace as she reviewed the savaged limb. That fury returned, as did the hard look in her eye. She took a step back to give him some space and said nothing to that effect—she would get to it. Firstly, though, him: take care to see her again so she can inspect it and ensure it does not get infected. Lyra has told me, so I will tell you, it is not simply the size of the cut that can kill. Infection can, too. I can see as of now it is not, at least... but until it heals more, there is that risk. Plus, she thought, Osiris seeing his battle-buddy from that day would do him some good. 

Hydra drew a breath and spoke again: I did not thank you that day. You saved my son. 'Thank you' is not nearly enough. That wolf, that scent—it is the girl who traveled with Caiaphas and Merrick. Vengeance had told me of her after you and I had met where the mercenary died. Merrick, Caiaphas—I had their scents. She was not with them then. But she was with them as they moved through Neverwinter Forest. Our focus shifted in the Winter to survival, when the herds left—now, though, we can return it to where it belongs. Those three—and whoever is with them in this attack upon the innocents—they will die, came her dark words. She would thank him by seeing it done, with him, too, who more than deserved his pound of flesh. 

With every mother, father, brother, sister, who sought to protect one another. This could not stand. No more. It needed to end. She looked to him to see how he felt on the matter; did he still agree? With the wound on his flesh, Hydra could not imagine that he had.

His gaze drifted over each puncture wound that littered his upper forelimb, and thought how they didn't look as bad as they felt. A deep frown tugged each corner of his mouth as he considered what might lurk below the surface: the potential of pierced muscle, multiplying bacteria, severed blood vessels. Despite his upbringing having been focused on creating a warrior, Dacio had been reared by a mother who excelled in her field of healing and had picked up on a thing or two. He was no expert, but knew the signs to look out for.

Infection would not swell in his cuts, though. It would not poison his blood, nor would he let it render him useless. Drakru flowed through his veins, and he arrogantly believed that this was what would save him.

Following the Queen's advice, which he nodded to in silent agreement, a dark ear pricked forward at an unexpected expression of gratitude. Dacio lifted his pale eyes to seek Hydra's dark features, careful to avoid meeting her sharp gaze. "Seeing him thrive again will be all the 'thanks' I need," he assured her with a lazy flop of his dark tail. His expression darkened again, however, as Hydra carried on to share what she knew of Osiris' attacker, and he communicated his budding anger with the mention of Blackhead's name. "So they all work together," he concluded, and at once he considered the possible motive behind yesterday's scuffle in the glen. Could it have been an order by Blackhead - a warning to Moonspear for sheltering Drageda stragglers? He hated the idea of his existence there being the reason for the prince's injuries. "They will die," the warrior echoed with a rumbling growl, "and we will make sure of it."

Hydra's ear twitched. So it seems. Perhaps they banded together for the famine and remained that way. I do not know, but I intend to find them, whether they were together, or not. It made no difference: they were, collectively, dead men walking (nevermind that two of them were women). Hydra did not think they had targeted Moonspear for the Roangedans only because Caiaphas had not known, to her knowledge, that they had decided to join her. Hydra attributed it to the mercenary; to knowing he was Moonspear, perhaps, and seeking what else they might find. Dacio agreed with her wholeheartedly. 

Teeth now. Only their teeth. No forgiveness for this; no kindness. They had spared none for those they had brought harm to.

I would like to know details. Down to the color of her eyes, if you saw them, Hydra hummed, and elaborated: did she seem a skilled fighter, trained? Was she careless? Sloppy? In her defenses. Not enough to kill, but then, the priority in that moment had simply been for the both of them to return home... as Hydra would have wanted. They would fight another day. Hydra awaited her companions answers with ample interest.

Truthfully, Dacio did not think their most recent attack to have been premeditated. It'd been several long months since Vercingetorix' murder, since the coywolf admitted to hunting for the natrona's offspring. The world had been quiet through Winter without the threat of her lurking, but he knew better than to think her gone for much longer.

A thorn in his side, it seemed, and he gritted his teeth to keep from snarling at the memory of the coroner's hideous, sneering face.

Hydra requested more information from him, and he began confidently. "Black fur, dark blue eyes," or... were they? He hesitated, "I think." Seeing the colour of the assaulting wolfess' irises had not been too high on his list of priorities. He lowered his pastel gaze, looked at the raw puncture wounds that marred his elbow. Dacio wasn't sure how to answer regarding her skill and defense, though made attempt at sharing what he thought: "she could fight, but I don't know if I'd consider her trained. She likely thought your son was there alone, seemed surprised when I approached." Her bite had been firm, perhaps fearful, in her attempt to remove Dacio's hold for a quick escape.

Hydra was quiet as he recounted the events. As for what the other believed, Hydra's muzzle wrinkled. I am of the same mind. Their typical quarry tends to be young, alone, and who they hope are defenseless, she rumbled. Hydra had taught Osiris, and the rest of their children, much, but she imagined that in the moment all was forgotten in the shocking whirlwind of events. She would need to do more. 

After a moments more thought, Hydra asked: do you think you left any lasting injuries? A scar to identify her by would be wonderful on a black wolf with—perhaps—blue eyes. A blue-eyed, black-furred wolf looked upon him now after all. Even where he injured her would suffice there, if the injury was one that would simply heal. Would it slow her down? How badly?

The young. Vulnerable children. His own lip curled with the hate that flared to life within him at such a suggestion. Cowards, the sterling warrior thought fiercely. Cowards to target the babes if the world, the very epitome of innocence.

How dare they.

How fucking dare they.

Dacio shook his proud head. "I hope so," he said, "it started and ended so quickly." He rolled a shoulder, having forgotten the gnarly wounds of his elbow - and gritted his fangs in attempt to hide the grimace as he shifted to settle once more. "But I never miss, and I did taste her blood on my teeth."

Hydra nodded; she was glad to hear he did not miss. Were you able to see where you struck? To know that she was injured pleased her, but if she could identify the wretch by wound or scar would be helpful. If not, she could always make due with what she knew. 

What you did... again, thank you Dacio. I am glad you have made her bleed. When you are well again, I hope you are able to aid me in teaching Moonspear how to never miss, she hummed with a grin. Hydra knew how to well enough, a master of the craft they two practiced, but lessons under his tutelage would be refreshing. Osiris, she imagined, would be glad to partake.