this is the way

Osiris, Leta, and perhaps West Tyree with them sought Dirge beyond the borders. But having recently heard from Leta that there was still no success there, Hydra knew that she must come to accept what most likely was before all of the rest. She had to be strong, for them.

Most of her mourning had been done—she had gone through the stages of grief perhaps a month or so ago, when she first came to fear this reality. There was regression, and progression… and she did not know where she fell on that spectrum today, nor what phase she stood within.

Acceptance was not so easy as she had wanted it to be. But each step was one in that direction, and part of her wanted to work through whatever stage was next with her teeth—she was not always the most emotionally intelligent, and did not like to sit with her emotions.

So she broke out into a run, hoping to exhaust herself from thinking in some sort of physical pursuit. Away from the past, now—toward the future, toward whatever might be next. Day by day—minute by minute.

@Medvjed
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Her ears cupped backward as she heard the heavy footfalls of the unmistakable man that had joined them during the storm of her life. But he always lingered in the safe eye of it, with the rest of those she cared for; though she yearned to use her teeth, they would not be turned against him in any malicious sort of way.

She was receptive to his company; even at her worst, she was a social beast. Hydra did slow to turn and nip at him in greeting, tail swaying behind her in a clear indication of her mood at seeing him.

A scent on the wind, though, set her off. Hydra was at attention at once, her features morphing into something malevolent as she then sprinted ahead where the scent of coyote would ultimately lead them next.

Its scent was sour, perhaps through sickness or merely the stink of its breed. Hydra detested them as much as she did any canine beyond what they themselves were. And the particular odor was one she’d see stamped out of Empyrean—it had been a while, since one had thought to trespass.

It was as good a time to remind them of the fatal consequence of that as any.

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Had the racing of her own heart began upon the scenting of this little creature, or when she had heard the tread of the man she had come to now look forward to seeing?

She, too, let her mind be occupied by the thing that must be done. But she could not miss the way her heart seemed to skip a beat each time their furs might mingle, or skin might meet as one brushed against the other.

The thrill of this pursuit, though, took over as the scent grew stronger and stronger until—there!

And now Hydras stride lengthened in full, devouring the earth to interrupt the things progress. The coyote yelped in alarm, and Hydras snarl that followed was a death knell.

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The word rang through her ears. At once, Hydra knew what it must mean. From the tips of her ears to the then arched tip of her tail did the word reverberate, Hydra a caricature of its meaning as Medvjed descended upon it like an immovable hammer, swinging down—

and true. The beast was quickly captured and crushed beneath the weight of him. Yes, Medvjed the hammer, this thing the nail, and she the hand that swung it—the mountain the coffin they built, they pinned this thing to. Hydra ignored its own nipping teeth, the brunt of the violence it could bring to either of them tempered by its position. It could not ignore her own, though. Quick, and efficient, Hydra did not prolong its inevitable end.


As with most violent things, it was over as quickly as it had begun. Her muzzle smarted some, but she looked proudly down at their work and chuffed lowly. Another enemy done away with. They two had effectively protected their caches, and Hydra had young to think of—the future of Empyrean. Not her own, not yet—her gaze turned upon him then, seeking any wounds that the coyote might have landed—ignoring her own hurts then in favor of being certain he was alright.

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For months Hydra had been living, but as she stood before Medvjed and above their kill, once more she felt alive. That spark of life could well become a fire if she let it, and Hydra felt she very well could—should. Empyrean could not thrive in stillness, just as she herself could not. She had seen the way the man had lain himself out, to protect, to defend. Felt their own symmetry in the hunt. The asking—the answering. Her eyes fell to his shoulder, and Hydra stepped away from their kill to sniff delicately at it, and then—if permitted—tend to the wound through cleaning it.

She remembered a dappled man having died from a scratch; Hydra would not see such a fate befall him, not now, not ever. Strange that now she counted on the years with him, that she now hoped for them. Hydra could not lie to any, never mind herself.

The matriarch was careful in the way she cleansed the wound with gentle tongue (if he had allowed), and once she was satisfied with her work she moved toward the meat to eat, rumbling in invitation for him to join her. Perhaps too casually, as she inspected the corpse and sought prized liver, Hydra inquired, “is it your wish, to ever become a father again?” She remembered the hurt of his past, and so would not press further and understand, too, if he could not bear it for himself. But the scent of Spring was on the air, and Hydra herself was not immune to the call of it—not yet.

...but she was asking for Empyrean, of course, too; as its leader, it would be important to let him know the way of things, should he wish to.

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SO SORRY FOR THE DELAY! I am sick but DIDN'T WANT TO DELAY THIS ANY LONGER SO HAVE THIS STRANGE POSTT --

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Hydra loosed a huff through her nose.

She had asked for a reason, and down far below—further than she was willing to go, within herself—Hydra knew what it might be. But she could not yet articulate it. Instead, Hydra only drawled, “it takes two, and your wants are important to me,” she drawled in her low voice. A woman must want this of him, but what of his own wants? It mattered, he mattered... and she would not seek to make him suffer—

These traitorous thoughts! And her own traitorous desires! They manifested in her continued nearness, but she lowered her head to continue her feasting. Blood, gore, gristle all a distraction... even this was not enough to dilute him from her own senses.

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His ways were her own. This, Hydra appreciated in him—as she seemed to all things.

Finishing her own fill, Hydra did not step away as her tongue rolled over her muzzle to remove any remnants of their kill there. “When it comes to having cubs here, the asks are simple. First you must receive approval from your leaders, and second—the individual whom you breed with must be your mate. We are traditionalists here, but this is to ensure that the weight of child rearing is shared. The pack helps in all things, too, but it is as you say—that unity is important,” her tail swayed behind her. He seemed to know this, to understand. “I say this now because it is Spring, and many seem to forget these things.” Her voice was heavy.

Again that distant memory. Her own father had forgotten these things.

Hydra smiled as she said, “there is one litter to come,” the one she had spoken of, that she would be made grandmother for, and Hydra said, “and there is room for another.” She saw prey return in abundance. Perhaps the number even greater than the year prior. And she had a want—but this she did not say.

The words would serve their purpose, though. He was a smart man, she knew. And Hydra was a smart woman. There were things she was coming to realize in her own emerging sense of wonder, renewed now; book one of her life had come to an end. But her story was not over, and it seemed that the second story to be told might start with him. It, and she, was no small undertaking. But he did not seem the sort to shirk at such things, this bear of a man. And it was part of his charm.

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Was that her want?

She watched him feast. And she said, her eyes not leaving him, “yes.” For it was. It always had been. Hydra loved her family more than life; it was her children who would continue her legacy, well after she was gone. And when she was gone, she wanted each and every one of them to always look out for one another. Much of those she had produced had gone their own way, or else the world had created distance between them (in truly the literal sense). Hydra wanted for more, and had so much more left to give. To provide. To do.

It was then her eyes broke from his strong form toward the horizon.

“I have many wants,” she drawled to him, smiling, “some that I understand might never be,” the dead were (and stayed) dead, after all, “and some already fulfilled. All that I want I have,” and here her gaze turned to him, “and what I do not, I surely will,” her tail lashed behind her as her ears pricked. There was an impish light to them as she said the words. Indeed, the winds of spring brought this flirtation on!

Her questions had been asked to see if he might be the man for the task; perhaps implied that want he asked of her. She could not be so bold, not then!

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His words were met with a long look, not at all hard but searching. But she could see he meant them, these words—and she found herself counting upon them as she had not in several months. It was an exercise of trust, but one she let herself free fall into.

“I trust you to show me as much,” Hydra admitted, and said, a slight tease but also a gentle plea, “do not let me down,” her tail waved slowly behind her. She could not look away then, and leaned in ever so slightly before she forced herself then to step away.

This was not the moment to pursue this. But she had let him know that it was something she wished to, in time. Now then was the slow dance of their own courtship, begun by the culling of their common enemy—

A fact that gave her much joy. A fellow warrior, a strong hunter, to be by her side.

She looked back to him and drawled, “would you like to train with me?” with a flick of an ear. Her blood ran hot; she needed to keep moving!

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fading! Wanna start us another thread? I’ll be home in like… an hour to actually spree LOL

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Her eyes were bright at his words.

Stiff legged, she dove at him to nip his shoulder before she lunged away and said, joy abundant in her voice, “capture the killer,” her own aggressive brand of tag. Tail waving, she sprinted away—

Ready to be caught, though only by him then.

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