state of grace

For @Hydra! Other tags are for reference.

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It'd been a week since Osiris had started to keep a closer eye on @Hydra, and he had followed when she withdrew to the higher reaches of the mountain. Before Osiris left, he explained what was happening, and she understood. She also knew that watch would continue after Hydra gave birth. They would return to their routine in time, but it'd be a while before that happened. 

When Osiris settled down for the day, the sun was beginning to set. He had spent most of his time patrolling and hunting and hadn't run into any major issues along the way. It had been a good day, and he would take some time to rest before his night patrol begun. 

Osiris could see Hydra's den from where he had laid down, and he would keep an eye on the cave's entrance until he fell asleep. A part of him wanted to go and visit her, but he kept his distance. @Dirge had warned Osiris, and he listened. 

For now, he watched with his head laying on his outstretched legs. He wasn't tired, but he knew that he needed the rest. So he sighed and closed his eyes but remained mindful of any out-of-the-ordinary smells or noises.

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Hydra wished she had any control over when the cubs would come. Had she that ability, they would have been here by now. The discomfort that precluded them was an ordeal she wanted out of, and it could be difficult some moments to remember that what she endured would all be worth it. The nesting Queen knew movement would help, and so did just that as she, for one of the last times, investigated the landscape around her to ensure she left not a single stone unturned.

And she did just that.

It was slow going, in her state, but she was ceaseless in this task. Nothing of note that was cause for concern was discovered during her work. She caught wind of a boy turned man, who was dear to her heart; her temperament shifted from irate to settled the moment she saw him laying nearby. No doubt pausing in his own routine of ensuring the very same thing she had.

Ah, there it was—the reminder she needed. The very figure sprawled before her a stark reminder that as miserable as she felt... it would pass, and from it would come something brilliant. Proof lay right before her eyes. It could be difficult to remember that, especially during these final days (even more difficult for someone quite so stubborn as she), but she breathed a sigh of relief for any gratitude at all.

It was difficult to articulate her frustrations to any but to Alya, and Alya understood in the way that she always had—but still, impending motherhood, going into it alone as the childbearer, had its terribly isolating moments.

Osiris dispelled them as he rest. Not sleeping, she did not think, counting the cadence between breaths; he likely knew she was here. Perhaps waiting to see her mood before opening his eyes... wise beyond his years, if so. Or a good listener to his fathers sage wisdom on The Ways of Hydra. She did not think too hard about it as she bridged the gap, slowly but surely, moving to settle alongside him.

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Dirge's advice had been paramount in Osiris's navigation of Hydra's pregnancy. Additionally, he had also learned about her hormonal changes and boundaries. The challenges of pregnancy constantly tested her body and mind, but as always, she took it all in stride. 

Osiris did not move to greet Hydra when she exited the whelping den. Instead, he remained where he was, unchanged by her presence. She moved slowly, but he could tell that she was approaching. Still, he played dead remained in place until she decided that it was time to talk. He was surprised to feel her against him, and something instinctual stirred within him. Although Osiris had grown into a man, he felt like a child again as she laid beside him. 

His tail began to wag first, and then he lifted his head. 

"Mom," Osiris greeted with a whine, leaning over to kiss Hydra's chin. He didn't dare ask how she was doing because he knew the answer: miserable. So, instead, he asked, "What are you doing out here?" as he pulled away.

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It took plenty of her strength to not fall onto her hindquarters unceremoniously; Hydra put in the extra work that it took in order to maintain some of her dignity throughout. The matriarch could not remember her mother being graceless when carrying her younger siblings, and would not have her children see her any differently. It was also her nature; Hydra felt these things she accomplished were great feats of strength in of itself. Mentally, and physically. Hydra felt it would be all too easy simply to throw herself upon whatever lush piece of greenery or furs she might encounter, but she maintained her unaffected airs.

His tail began to wave, and as he looked up at her it was not his face then that she beheld. No... he was very small, and his fur amiss from roughhousing with his brothers and sister, his eyes wide and hoping to disarm her from grooming his unruly cowlicks—it never worked, but the vision of it was imprinted in her memory. She blinked, and it was gone—all but for those cowlicks she spied. As he withdrew, Hydra huffed and shifted nearer—she would work those tufts of fur into submission before she went into labor, and that was that.

Mom, he called her; she was used to mother, and so she supposed he learned the synonym to it from Leta. “That is my favorite and most beloved mother, to you,” she teased in earnest, pausing as she hovered over him. He was a man now, truly, she saw. “Making sure the perimeter is still clear,” she drawled, “though I can see it is all quite handled,” here she grinned, “so I thought I might rest a moment. Tell me, what have I been missing while preparing for your future siblings?” She hummed, with a wave of her own tail.

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"Ah, yes," Osiris chimed in reply with a coy grin. "My favorite and most beloved mother"he echoed, realizing how much of a mouthful the title was, "I'll be sure not to slip up again." He lifted his forepaw to the base of his ear, scratching a sudden and unexpected itch. 

When Hydra remarked about the state of her den's perimeter, Osiris felt a spark of pride but did not show it. "Things have been well," he answered. But, unfortunately, there wasn't much to report on his end. "A few scavengers here and there, but nothing that we can't handle," he clicked his jaws, thinking of the raccoon he'd chased out recently. It'd been an easy task, and Osiris's only regret was not killing it. Its fur would have made Hydra's nest all the more comfortable, and extra food was always welcome. 

"Leta has been well," he added next, thinking of his girlfriend. "I've been teaching her to fight," but she had a long way to go before she reached their caliber. "She's been increasing her patrols, too," he added, to brag about her a little more. 

Then, he thought of his brother. "I went exploring with Altair a little while ago, to the east," he said, motioning in the general direction of the cove. "We found the place where the land drops into the sea." Had she seen it? He wasn't sure.

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“Yes, do be sure,” she teased, content; as he scratched at an itch, the matriarch paused in her grooming to give him ample room for such. And then she was content to listen, her own grooming ritual soothing her and causing her to feel all the more close to her son, as it ever did. It would be some time before she could enjoy this sort of time with him, and so she appreciated every moment of it.

Osiris spoke of scavengers, and she licked her chops as she withdrew, studying a kink in his furs and determining how to best tackle the knot she had spotted. “Good,” she drawled. The matriarch knew that if anything had been of true concern, he would not have spared her the details of such. “Continue to do so, as you find the pests. I do so detest scavengers,” she said with a shake of her head. “Your aunt Keres and I found a juvenile wolverine, several weeks ago. No sign of any adult along with it, but best to keep aware,” she advised, certain that Osiris could handle as much. “Should another be spotted, take any seasoned fighter with you to deal with it,” she requested.

Wolverines were tenacious, aggressive bastards—and the older they were, the more ornery they seemed to be. Wanting to risk as little as possible, it was best to deal with the beasts in twos or threes depending on the skill level of the group he worked with.

With Leta, he might need a third, though she was pleased to hear of her progress. “I had seen her at the borders more,” she drawled approvingly in acknowledgment, “it is clear she works toward improvement. Such is important to me,” she hummed. It meant that Leta was not merely all talk; she had come, wanting to improve, but had done more than simply ask. She acted. “Important to Empyrean,” she added, for good measure. She approved in her sons choice of who to court. The girl could not be called lazy.

As he spoke of Altair, her interest piqued further. Her preference for her family in topics of conversation was at the very least not visibly apparent, but Osiris would know she cared to know how they all fared—blood or otherwise. But the absence of several of her elder cubs made the ones here that much more precious, and as he spoke of exploring the matriarch looked thoughtful. She had seen one such point, she believed, with Dirge... but was not certain if he meant the same place. “Tell me more of it,” she encouraged, “what have you discovered here?” with a twitch of her ear.

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"Of course," Osiris drawled in agreement, knowing of his mother's detest of the creatures. He loathed them as well, but there was something about the thrill of the chase that made his heart flutter in excitement. He looked forward to any chance he could get of driving them out. Osiris nodded at Hydra's report of a juvenile wolverine and asked, "Was it very far into the territory?" He wondered how far it'd gotten before crossing paths with his mother and aunt. 

He felt a warmth shine within him as Hydra spoke of her approval of Leta. "Yes," he said, simultaneously willing away the flush that appeared on the bridge of his nose,  "She is very determined to earn her keep and more." She was a hard worker, and he loved that about her. 

"It's to the west," he replied, thinking of West-Tryee for a split second. "It's ... treacherous," he added, settling on that description. "The land falls suddenly into the ocean, and sharp rocks are at the bottom," he grinned then and looked at her coyly, "It'd be a good place to throw our enemies." 

"But the view from the top is incredible. You can see the ocean for miles and miles." Osiris hadn't realized the shape of the cove, but if he had, he would have known that it had been made just for them. (And it had been hehehehehehe)

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Hydra recalled where her nose had led her; the matriarch shook her head. “Not too deep, no, but deep enough,” she hummed. One step beyond the border was one step too far, the way Hydra considered things. The wolverine was proof of that, and had died for it. The matriarch could not coexist with thieves that threatened the well being of her family. Hydra had never been a very tolerant woman in that realm. With tooth and claw, she would protect her members from such for as long as she lived and breathed.

Afterward too, when the time came, she imagined with some amusement. Even though Hydra did not believe in the afterlife, the memory of her would haunt many enough to second-guess touching her family.

He spoke on of the place he had found, and Hydra was quite curious. As he spoke of it being a place to throw their enemies, Hydra hummed, “only our teeth can guarantee the deaths of our enemies. To throw them in such a place and hope for it is not near enough,” in her low voice. He might have meant it in good humor and in jest, but in the matter of their enemies Hydra never could find her own funny bone.

Only theirs.

And she would not have him make the mistakes a more foolish warden would. “To see the job is done,” she hummed, “you must do it yourself.” He would know who to trust with such tasks—herself for example—but beyond those wolves who had the heart and spine both for it, it was better never to employ another. Not even the sharpened stones of nature could always promise what the pressure (when properly applied) of their own jaws, and ripping of their teeth could. And as for afterward? “When it comes to the body, an ocean is not always the best place to send it. Who knows where it may wash up,” she drawled. Hydra had no qualms in sending messages, but the ocean... well, it was an unknowable thing. Careless.

Still, “it sounds lovely,” she decided, doing her best to imagine it as he had described. It sounded as though there was nothing to see but death at the bottom, and that was lovely in its own way, but she had meant for the most part the view. “You and I must go to the coast with your youngest siblings, when they are able to travel. There is some salt in our blood,” she remarked then; she wondered if any of them might have an affinity toward the sea, to seek to claim any part of the coast nearby someday. Grand thoughts, but her children were capable of accomplishing them she knew, and so they were not ones of whimsy.

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Osiris nodded, listening to Hydra's advice. Although his comment had been in jest, he hadn't considered the ramifications of tossing an opposer into the ocean. He assumed that they would vanish, and he hadn't thought about them washing up elsewhere. "You're right," he drawled, slightly lowering his ears, "It would be foolish not to finish the job myself." He wouldn't make that mistake. 

"Yes," Osiris agreed, happy to change the subject. "I think that they'll love it." An average puppy might have been intimidated, but the Ostregas were a different breed of wolf. They were tough, cunning and determined—they may even find a likeness in the landscape. 

When Hydra revealed that they had a connection to the ocean, Osiris quirked a brow. "Grandfather was born by the ocean, right?" he asked, vaguely recalling the stories he had been told as a child.

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His response needed to rejoinder or affirmation; he knew she agreed, as she had said as much. A grown man though he was, the learning never ended—just as she herself continued to learn through life and the experiences it threw at her. If possible, she would not have him make the mistakes she had seen others do. Foolish ones, at that. Hydra was never one to leave any work incomplete; she had no unfinished business.

Whether her cubs loved the coast or not meant little to her, though she saw the merit in training them there. Hate or adore it, there was plenty to learn from the place. Fighting upon sand was something Hydra had learned from an expert, ruddy warrior of the coast. It was different than that of the landscape she was used to, but there was a benefit in learning there. Homefield advantage or not, knowing ones footing on different lands was essential.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “he led a pack, once, upon the Bay... before he met your grandmother,” she reminded, lapsing into the old story her father had once shared with her, when she had been a child.

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