Moonspear I don't wanna go, go, go with the flow

backdated to whenever I said she returned lol @Hydra and whoever else wants to come also MATURE warning just for mentions of a corpse

 

She had made her way home, awkwardly hauling the skinned head in her jaws, which had been almost dried by the rays of the sun during her journey. The heartwood was unfamiliar and thus it had taken some time to find the glen, but once she was there the spear had lain ahead. Mira fell upon the borders, hesitating for a moment with an unusual hesitance... and then she howled for Mother. MOTHER, I AM HERE. I AM SAFE. Would Hydra still want to hear such a thing, after Mira had gone too far? It was one of her only insecurities: everything was done to impress Mother, but wandering was not good, and wandering had gotten her into this chaos. As soon as the queen arrived, Mira might let the trophy fall from her jaws, and fall to her stomach on the earth too, ears flattened to her skull in submission.

It was not the sound that drew her, but the familiar scent. Strong, stronger than it had been for grueling days that had felt like wartorn years for her. Mira, the nipping wind told her. Moments before the call, Hydra had already begun to run. She prayed this was no cruel delusion cultivated by her yearning, and as the wind howled with her daughter Hydra swallowed her hope. These months, the wind often played the part of trickster with its whistling gales. 

Hydra broke through the trees, and even seeing her daughter there the mother could scarcely believe her own eyes that she was here, and whole, and breathing. Real, she begged, bounding toward her cub without reserve. Blood, whose blood—real, she wondered, moving just behind her daughter to see what else might be in their midst before circling and drawing up alongside, 

Real, real, she willed, reaching out to to feel her briefly—

Real. 

She need not ask who. The scent that comingled with her daughter was with her, and her gaze fell upon the head. 

It was they that kept Mira from her. 

So, you have seen for yourself now how the wolves of this world can be. I am glad that it is her head brought to me today, rather than yours, she drawled darkly. She was only disappointed that her daughter had not shared with any of her departure; if they had known, this may never have happened. 

But the result of it, this—Hydra was not unhappy. She regarded her daughter, drawing nearer to her. I am proud of you, for doing what you must, she murmured for her daughters ears, to get home. But you are not to leave here again without telling anyone, am I understood? Come, let us get you cleaned up, she determined, blood and gore is gauche. Nosing her daughters hind to usher her into their home, she paused to look at the head before grabbing hold of it to take it with them. 

A plaything for Mira, or a trophy—her daughter could decide.

Mira was stunned as her mother arrived, and fell into a submissive stance that begged for forgiveness; her skewed idea of what love was causing her to expect her mother's teeth, perhaps. Instead Hydra came up beside her, and behind her, and before her again, taking a brief look upon the serpent's trophy, her evidence of what had been done. 

So, you have seen for yourself now how the wolves of this world can be.

Mira affirmed this with a nod, a single dip of her chin. She had heard that there was evil in the world, now she had seen it first hand, and had all the stronger desire to snuff it out sooner. 

When Mother said she was proud, Mira's gaze rose and her tail beat gently in the air, unusual for the girl, that kind of giddy joy. She couldn't leave again without telling anyone- and she agreed, Yes, Mother. I am sorry that I left before. I was a fool, She admitted, and thought of Mintaka- had she stooped to her level? It will not happen again. Her mother nudged her, and Mira pressed forward, glancing back momentarily to ensure the head was retrieved- she did not wish to lose her first trophy of many.

You are not a fool, she corrected before they began their journey to a gentle stream, but you behaved foolishly. To repeat ones mistakes over and over—that is what often makes a fool, she explained. There were other things, too. I know you know better. I did not expect this from you, she drawled, then giving room for Mira to explain herself. What had motivated her to act in such a way, in the first place? 

Having then picked up the skull, Hydra moved onward as her daughter expressed she would not do so again. Hydra hoped not, and decided to have faith that Mira meant it, rumbling quietly to indicate that she heard heard her. Hydra was glad that her daughter was here in one piece—this outcome was far better than the alternatives she had imagined. One ear backturned, listening for the sound of her daughters footsteps.

She wasn't a fool? That was good. But she knew the mistakes she made, had dwelled on them in long thoughts when she was held captive, and on her way home, and now was prepared to speak on them again. She knew she wasn't supposed to wander. But, I mistook the glen as ours. Moonspear scent was upon it; I did not think I would find any danger there. She had swiftly been proven wrong. Apologizing again seemed redundant, and she fell silent, following her mother's steps obediently.

Her daughters explanation was sound enough, though she maintained her silence up until they arrived to one of Moonspears slowest moving creeks. Depositing the skull away from its banks, Hydra gestured toward the waterbed. The cold would be uninviting, though it would not kill her. Hydra would move with Mira; a punishment that would please Hydra greatly would be her ability to groom Mira as she had when she was quite young. Do not fuss, she drawled, giving her daughter a look that brooked no argument there. 

Waiting for Mira to come before her and into the water, Hydra explained, The Glen is an additional hunting ground of ours—though we had never claimed it entirely. That has changed, now, she explained, the Glen is ours in full. But even in Moonspear, there are wolves that would trespass and ignore the scent of our claim. Fools, she drawled, seeking death; who in their right mind would go beyond marked borders? But we do not deal with them alone if we do not need to. An ear flick to see if her daughter understood. When they killed, they often did not do so alone. They were capable of it, to be sure, as any wolf was—but Hydra would rather the odds be tipped definitively in their favor.

Mira followed most reluctantly, but she was not one to question her mother's commands, especially not now. She did not fuss- even as Mother groomed her like not-Mother had tried to, and the serpent was fiercely reminded of that feeling, and fought the fiery nervousness in her veins. Instead she focused on Hydra's words- ears perking when she learned the glen was now theirs in full. Ours, She repeated in a giddy whisper under her breath. But she fell silent again, and nodded when her mother called trespassers fools, believing her word the creed. 

Mother, how do we decide when more land is officially ours? Are we going to take more? She wondered, and found her continuous curiosity making her into a noisier creature, And who helps us deal with them, the fools, then?

Hydra could only presume to know what Mira had endured. The womans scent all over her daughter was indication enough; she imagined Mira might have hated that most of all, second perhaps only to being away from home against her will. Punishment enough, she figured—but Hydra would not have so much of a trace of that wretch upon her daughter. The woman was fortunate to have died by the teeth of her daughter rather than her own. No kindness, no mercy—Hydra would not permit the other to go gently. Hydra paused while grooming her cub, taller and leaner and not so little anymore, a look passing over her features as she regarded her daughter. 

I hope you made her suffer for doing as she did to you. To me. To us. 

How did they decide? A good question. Moonspear has had the number for it for some time, though our claim over the hunting grounds had been solid enough where it did not feel a necessity. There needed to be a good wolf to lead it, too, and more than that one who was willing. There are plenty of wolves worthy of such a title, she drawled, thinking of all of her eldest, but some are content with their present roles and some simply do not wish to leave. There is nothing wrong with either, she drawled, for subordinates are what keep our pack strong, and help it to thrive. And those who wish to stay are no less loyal than those who wish to build upon our claim, but if they are happy here then they need not go. She explained. Arcturus had never wished to leave to start such a thing, and Hydra had thought that he would live and die on this rock. Life had other plans for him, though. 

Each other, she informed with a grin. We are wolves. Just as we do not hunt alone, we ought not fight alone if we do not need to. There is no dishonor in defending our borders, or one another, together, when a threat comes. Believe me when I say those that make themselves our enemies might pretend to know honor for a time, to disarm you, but would have no shame in taking advantage of a circumstance presented to them if the time was right to them. Remember that those who are our enemies, or were our enemies, were named such by us for a reason. We have few we regard as such... Ursus, the Saints, she hummed, ...but plenty that disagree with our ways beyond them. Here she shrugged. Hydra did not live to please others; she lived to keep her family alive and to see that they thrived.