a babbling brook

@Hydra if the location isn't okay, bump me and i will fix!! also pls no need to match length

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 Ask any man and he would say the world was a wonderful place, full of potential and ripe for the taking. Ask any man and he would say the world was made for him, that the sun rose and each day would be his. Ask any man and he would whisper words of the power of his masculinity in each answer.

 Medvjed had not cared for the men who thought the worth of the world was measured by what swung between legs.

 But one had rambled too long and too loud, a voice that boomed and beamed with acid of a snake underneath. He had grown tired of the man's honeyed voice and the words. Things had come to blows.

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 He had thought he had won, but the world yawned awake before him with the buzzed headache of a man who had lost. Beneath thick mass ached soft bruises that would haunt more than his flesh. For when he had opened his beady, buzzard eyes he found not a smidge of familiarity.

 Ask him and he would have said the world was sranje and that it would never ripen for anyone. That the sun had only peaked through foggy fields to strike him when he was down.

 He snorted despite the headache that blossomed in full to a near migraine. How could he be so special as to be picked on by the sun itself? He could not be. So he had to withstand like every other meat puppet in the world, even when he realized the bruising had felt bone deep instead of flesh deep.

 He rose like the sun did every morning. Only out of an age old obligation to bring forth new things.

 And carried himself in steps that quaked towards the edge of the water.

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The matriarch used her nose during the search of a man who might well be dead. Her mind had begun to believe as much during the most terrible days of Winter. The days before and the days after that, too, he did not return. Each time she called there was no answer. There was a chance he lived yet, that he might have settled with another pack for survivals sake... his age would make him not so swift to return, perhaps. But Hydra knew better than to hold onto even this hope for very long.

Beginning to accept it, sitting with it for so long... somehow, it softened the blow of the painful truth she contended with.

Dirge was dead.

She would check the world around them. Seek him out anywhere, everywhere nearby. But she would not go too terribly far in these days, when it seemed all had roused with Spring. She needed to be home, for all that remained... for all that returned. And for all that would come anew, too. Never had the matriarch considered a future without the man, and the truth of it was she never wanted to. But to forge ahead, she knew that she must.

The matriarch walked alongside the waterway that poured forth from Empyrean, thinking it a good path for more reasons than just the one. During her search she also sought prey that had been hard to come by. Another famine had struck—that was two, in her lifetime. Two she had seen the end of. For she could scent proof of their life; perhaps a hunt was due soon. They all could do with some good, they all deserved it. Plenty of time had gone by before Hydra saw the evergreens, which she had (a day or so ago) observed from her domain, and soon she was walking within them.

More scents here, the tracker observed—but none of them Dirge's, not yet. She could smell water, and knew that sometimes life could congregate there. So it was to the lake that the matriarch moved toward, pausing upon seeing a behemoth of a man present. She observed his steps with her critical eye, noting how they seemed unstable. That would not make his teeth any less sharp, she knew. And then, he very well could be faking it—a flytrap, coaxing others to closeness.

She had lived long enough to be aware of each potential option. Those and more came to mind, and she sniffed none too idly at the air to see what else she might ascertain from this distance. She drifted nearer to the water for a drink herself, though granted the both of them room as she kept the space between them for now. Best to know his character, first, and she hoped his first actions would give her a clearer idea as to what she would next do.

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 Rocks.

 Slick things that seemed fit to betray him too. The fog would do no favors in such a setting too, this he had learned from life alone. He did not think he had ever been untouchable, immortal or whatever fallacy the gods held and yet he ached with an unknown vulnerability now. One that rankled him in an unflattering way.

 How awful the world had become in his slumber.

 How long had he slumbered for?

 Yet the water rippled with the soft laps of drinks and he could no longer think on himself. Someone had come and he would not be surprised if it was the man again. Come to spew some prophetic — Oh. He did not know this shape.

 A shadow given eyes of a night sky. Cut hard and athletic. Where has she come from? He did not think she had brought his rested body here, but she might hold the secrets of the place. A keeper, of sorts. Or a scout, a hunter. One who could explain why he had found a lake where there once had been none — to his memory.

 Now he chuffed deeply, posture neutral for the sake of both of them. His claws gripped at wet stone as he watched, as he waited.

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He sounds off, and Hydra lifts her head, water dripping slowly from her chin back into the water. She licks her chops, the lingering water taken by tongue and brought into her mouth again. She returns the noise, having no qualm with him yet... and given the way that his nature appeared, she was inclined to provide some measure of giving him the benefit of a doubt. Her own posture was also neutral, though she did feel a terrible inclination to explore the hunting lands here and perhaps stake some sort of claim, especially after the famine that had been endured.

Selfish, perhaps—but Hydra cared little for the survival of any beyond her claim and family. If it ever came to them, or those she led—those she led would always come first.

Her gaze shifted to behind him. No others emerged; it seemed as though he was by himself. She verified, “you are alone?” in her low voice, wanting to know if any surprises might emerge from the forest behind him.

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 Alone.

 Once, he had not been. It had not felt all that long ago that he had known bodies and they had talked, blabbered. It was how he had ended up asleep — or so he thought. Now he felt uncertain when faced with her and this question. The confusion bubbled onto his features for but a moment before he nodded. Up and down.

 “Alone.” He echoed the word back and found his voice dull. Tired. That it expelled the bone deep exhaustion he held close to him. “You?” He did not know what to expect from her. Perhaps a million more shadows laid in the fog, prepared to take him on. They would not need many bodies if they wished to.

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Something about his answer satisfied her. Perhaps it was for the impending season, where no other might lay claim to him—

And could she say, now, that any lay claim to her?

Guilt threatened to rear its head. It was best to be honest, she determined. “Alone,” she drawled, “for now. I search for my mate—though I do not think that I will find him,” here her voice grew lower, but for the first time it did not break. It had been so long; she knew, at some juncture, she must accept this outcome. Perhaps she already had.

Alone, he had said. “After, I return to Empyrean, where I stake my claim. Where do you go from here?” she wondered—and contemplated her own curiosity. The warm breeze that danced around her did not feel like betrayal. It felt like Spring; it felt like life again.

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 Who had left her? What man had gazed upon her and thought to turn sidelong? It stirred something hollow in the base of his heart. A churned feeling of something old and primal come to haunt him at her declaration.

 Beasts like them were not creatures made to be alone. Nature dictated that.

 Yet she was not alone entirely, she revealed. Her claim, a place named Empyrean and at once the world seemed brighter. Not softer nor kinder, but it turned towards a favorableness to his situation.

 As for him? Alone. How he dreaded the crushing reality of it.

 “Nowhere.” And the depth of his voice was hollowed out and sighed with the loneliness that the world had cast upon him. A masked face tilted from the water towards her.

 He, a man who faced judgement, and did not fear it.

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thank you so much for stardust!!! it is mutual; loving this thread very much!

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Nowhere. Hydra looked upon him and saw strength, even despite the quivering limbs then set with exhaustion. Perhaps this search would not be fruitless—somehow, already, she did not think that it would. While her intuition rarely led her astray, she wanted to be certain of it more than she had desired anything beyond her own families well being.

“No more,” she drawled the low offer with bright eyes, “if you can both hunt and protect,” as pack always ought to for one another. Primal, yes, but this was her way—perhaps his, too... “you may walk with me to Empyrean,” not nowhere, not anymore.

Again that warm breeze, and Hydra darted toward him with the wave of her tail, though paused partway there with the tilt of her head. Would he permit her proximity?

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<3 !!

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 No more.

 In the warmth of the spring, he imagined cruelty. That he would be cut down as a weak man and that she meant to release him from the tired husk he inhabited. Instead she had become the warmth of spring. Bloomed with an offer. A venus flytrap or a hydrangea mattered not. He would be the bee or fly, prepared to play his part for her. For this Empyrean.

 The lonely chasm forced him to, lest he slip into some sort of ugly deranged life.

 “Both. All. Anything.” His voice did not waver when he promised these things.

 She dove and his dark beady eyes seemed to shine for a moment. Caught the soft light that reflected through fog and water. He swung himself towards her with the 'playful' swagger — as much as a man his size could. Yet it would be clear in the air of him and the movement of his tail that he meant no harm. He meant only to welcome her closer if she truly wished.

 Certainly he awaited appraisal from her, having passed the first judgement phase.

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Hydra grinned wolfishly toward his words. And as he seemed to allow her closer, inviting it with an exuberance she herself had not felt in some time, Hydra at once let out a pleased huff and felt something more than the oppressive chill of Winter, and the starved hunger of it. Such things perhaps she ought to snuff out, but Hydra would not rob herself of living in these moments, big or small, for too much longer. And now she would sample what delight was once again, approving of his swagger—appreciative, too.

Male confidence was not so bad a thing; it looked good upon him, at least.

And so she bridged the gap, only slightly guarded should he seek to turn upon her suddenly. Years and years of experience gave her this—and yet she thrilled at the idea of vulnerability, of reckless foolishness. Not at the expense of her own life, though—she would step away if he threatened in any way.

But she explored the expanse of him with her nose, drifting over the summit of his shoulders, the valley between them. Her nose worked, sniffing deeply at the heady scent that made this man him, different from any other. And beyond that, his scent provided credibility to his words, alone and nowhere, but she pressed her own furs gently against him, a stamp of no more through her scent, through Empyrean's. He might smell its rivers, its forests—its people, too, spattered upon her.

Him, too, now! He had been accepted with his words. She lingered alongside him, so that he might explore and come to know these things in this way, first.

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 And there it was, as she roved over the forests and mountains that made him. As she discovered his truth in the heft of his loneliness. That where once there might have been something, laid nothing.

 Nothing but her, but Empyrean.

 He rolled his shoulder into her mark so that he could wear a hefty dose of the perfume of the people. The smell of a fresh mountain. The scents of stone and frost that forged her, forged the land she claimed. These things would become thicker upon him too when he walked among them and learned the way her world worked.

 The athletic cut of her had not been lost to him in his own roving. Her claim would be well protected by any like her. Yet when his investigation ended, he only snorted hearty and warm. Masked head now lowered to her in deference.

 A good man prepared to bow to a better woman.

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MAN YOUR WRITING IS POWERFUL

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Hydra rumbled a pleased note, eyes shining in the light. He was a strong men, yes, and also bright—and while she could appreciate arrogance, she never did when it was not earned. And then could it be called such? She knew her worth; Hydra could imagine his own. Both of their fortunes, turned now—to brighter, warmer things. Life had become survival; it was time to not merely live, but to thrive. For him, too.

Their dismal days could end now.

Hydra slid several feet ahead, looking back to him in invitation as she prompted: “hunt with me?” the beginnings of it, at least; if they yielded the scents of a herd, it would be a success in comparison to but months ago when there had been next to nothing. Now it felt that the tide had turned, and with him she felt so too had her luck. Not that she believed in such things.

But with him, she saw what she had made of her life. Saw what else she now could.

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i am very flattered seeing as yours is god-tier ;-; <3

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 She need not ask. He would have shadowed her every move from here to the mountain reaches that she called home. They called home. How simple she had made his world when sprinkled with a bit of purpose, a touch of direction.

 “Lead.”

 And he knew she need not be told! Yet still he had as a sign of his welcoming the hunt and keenness to follow her, to please her even. His swagger turned into a stalk as he moved to stand along her side.

 Would she find it presumptuous where he placed himself?

 He feared no judgement if it came from her hand.

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Hydra answered through a happy huff that came from her nose, and did; when the gargantuan man settled alongside her, Hydra did not snap in resistance. It had been a long time since a man other than her mate had done so, and so Hydra regarded him with an air of interest. She wondered at his intent—and found herself unresistant to the idea of his courting her, though such would take time. Hydra nipped at his shoulder with a sway of her tail, pressing ahead with an impish step.

That she was not adverse to it spoke enough, but the quickening of her step would relay to him there was work to be done.

For her. For him.

And among the myriad of scents she uncovered as they trekked, none of them Dirge's own. It never seemed to be. Upon Empyrean, it had faded to nothing too—he had become but a memory, now. One she had been mourning for so very long now, even if she had admitted it to none aloud. It had been Dirge she had shared these fears with, and no other. He had become her equal in each way. Strange to think of anyone else there.

But good, too, to know that there was hope for it. That the man with her now might wish for it. But perhaps it was she being presumptuous.

How strange, to become older but feel so young! This uncertainty, it was a thrill. One she embraced. To feel the fur of the man alongside her, to dream again of a future—she felt alive. Born anew.

And she did not yet know his name, she realized! Peering to him, tail swaying, she hummed, “I am Hydra, Empyrean's Queen—what may I call you?”

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 They tracked the lands, the sniffed and roved. He never allowed himself to go far from her side. Lest he become alone again. He did not favor the idea of losing her, he found. Somehow the thought seemed more grim than the reality of waking alone by default.

 Losing meant pain.

 So each time paths veered on a course, he rounded back like he orbited her. A mingle of their fur so he could carry the scent of her, the memory of her. If he lost sight of her in their hunt he was not sure what he would do. Roam until he found the place that smelled of her claim? Ask after Empyrean until someone took pity?

 No. These things would be a useless thought, a thing that would not happen if he just stayed with her. And so he was right there, head hung near her shoulder level as they walked. Bear eyes met hers for but a moment before he respectfully glanced away.

 “Medvjed by my mother.” He rumbled warm with a sway of his tail. “But what will you call me?” There dared to be a creep of humor into him as he continued their hunt.

 A queen may call her men any number of thing and he would answer to all.

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you can pick the animal if you'd like!!! <3

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The name came on heavily accented tones, ones she thought she had heard but only now knew for certain was truth. She was all the more intrigued at that, and hummed, “what does it mean?” with pricked ears. Hydra had a love for other languages, and wondered now if she might name him in a tongue he could understand or the tongue of her own late mother. It would take thought, though Hydra felt in her heart she knew.

The matriarch grinned. “Time will tell,” she drawled, her voice an echo of his own tease. It meant he would need to stay, to discover it; but he remained close now, and she took it as something like a promise. “But I will tell you this, for now: 守りたい. — I will always protect you” An oath to him, as Empyrean—as someone who also who had brought forth her renewal, even if he was unaware of it.

He was a strong man, and she a strong woman; she suspected he would not feel emasculated by such and, had he words in his tongue to match, he would say them himself.

A scent on the wind caught her attention. Old, but not terribly old—the freshest she had come across in months. Her tail swayed behind her as she sniffed at the earth, picking apart the scents to determine what sort of beasts they would track together this day.

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 Could she not tell from the cut of his cloth? From the earthy tones and the high rise of his shoulders? He only smiled softly, thin. Wry with his tired humor.

 “Bear.” Now she might see it as he revealed it.

 Yet as he might have topped her in size, he felt dwarfed by the grandness of her. A strong woman who had seen it fit to lift him back up. To set him upon his own feet and whisper no, not yet to the dying fight in him. Things he could not voice but that he would show.

 Her own words now wrung out into the air. He blissfully unaware of the things she had said and only felt the warmth of enchantment to share private things with one another in this way. An exchange of tongues given to them by ones before them. How secrets could be shared in the comfortable knowledge of being clueless.

 The ways he could have thanked her for taking him in the tongue his mother had birthed him with. The ways he hoped to hear her talk for hours on end with the way she spoke. Too quickly he had been ensnared and found he did not mind the feeling of claws that sunk deep into him.

 He only leaned softly with grace not befitting a man his size, hopeful that their shoulders would meet in the middle.

 The scent of deer summoned his attention elsewhere — only for a moment, it could never leave her now, not for long — and he motioned towards the trail it seemed to wind. The way they moved along the river that filled the lake and how soon he would learn it was her river, fed from the slopes of her mountain. The scents seemed few even if fresh and he imagined it might be a doe or two. Prepared to bring new life with the warming of spring upon them.

 All he could think of was how the doe would bring them life if they found it.

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Bear. She had a deeprooted hatred of the creatures, born of her father—it felt as though there were another reason, too, but she could not recall...

There was none of that hatred as she looked to the man before her. She saw the size and stature they shared, how even his paws might serve a hefty club as a bear could. His furs, too, she supposed. But little else. In him she saw the spirit of wolf, not bear—protector, intelligence, loyalty even then. Heart. Bears were brutish things, with the exception of mothers; their nature she could understand. In that way, she was not so unlike the bear herself.

What would she not do for them?

His mother had called him bear, and meant in fondly. She wondered if it brought him solitude, this name. But for now, he earned his first name from her, though he would not yet know it: Ōkami, or wolf. Though perhaps he might prefer to be Kuma—bear! She wondered, looking him over, at this!

Hydra was surprised by his gentleness then. For a man named after a bear, he was far more deft than one. She warmed at it, but he had withdrawn to continue their course before she could think on it long.

They drifted toward the river; Hydra's tail stirred behind her. “Should you ever lose your way home, you could follow this river,” she drawled, peering toward him, “it leads to Empyrean,” she informed. And the scent of deer hit her doubly then; relatively fresh, too! She noted scat and the aged imprint of hooves, and gestured to them as she drifted their way. Several more sniffs revealed to her the age of many, and the health status as well! Her tail swayed behind her, as she considered the meaning of this, and she looked to him as she murmured, “the famine has ended. This herd has a great many members within it,”

Perhaps a pack hunt was due!

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 Lose his way home.

 Now why would he ever go and do that? He imagined it would be some time before he roamed far enough from the walls of Empyrean to be lost. Any distance out of calling would be too far, his instincts deemed. If he could not find his way back to the peaks she claimed with strength, then perhaps he did not deserve to find his way back to her at all.

 Yet still he held this knowledge close with great care.

 Even closer still he held the knowledge of what she said next. A famine ended, a feast could begin and he saw no better thing to signal his strength than being here for this.

 “We can rally. We can feast.” Still he spoke only with the voice of suggestion. As comfortable as he felt to track alongside her and stand shoulder to shoulder, the hunters were not his to command nor call upon. It was with that in mind that a hooded head turned to look sidelong at her. The handsome curve of her jaw and the strength behind it.

 He wished to see it make a killing blow in a hunt — a thing he did not hide in his prolonged gaze.

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Hydra rumbled approvingly at his suggestion. Her eyes were bright as she nodded, stalking nearer to him in a hunters prowl. “First, we track—suss out their weaknesses, see their true number,” for sharp though her nose was, it could be more than one herd passing through she noted! No doubt they would not have bedded in the open; perhaps they moved to Empyrean. Herds did not mind borders as those of their species would (when wise); it was a fortuitous day.

Not entirely, though. Hydra was keenly aware of what the scents of the Lake had not included. Her nose sought the scent of Dirge, though there was the distinct absence of anything that had defined his own unique notes. But even still, this day brought forth what Hydra felt were good boons for Empyrean and their family, for her reign—for her life.

Hydra looked to the man alongside her, humming, “let us head home. There are many for you to meet that now you will hunt with,” her tail swayed behind her at this. Hydra began to lead the way, listening for the sound of his tread which already she had come to like the sound of.

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fade? <3

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 This was a task he would absorb into himself the next few days. She did not need to assign it for him to know it should be done. By him, by another, it mattered not when it boiled down to them feasting. He only knew that if he did it, he solidified himself among her and Empyrean.

 To prove she had not dragged a gargantuan slab of dead weight home with her.

 “Home,” He rumbled warm and deep like heated honey spilling over. His steps would be made with a confidence he had not felt since his odd awakening, knowing that good awaited him now.

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Together through the fog they would move, going home. There would be much for him to come to know, and to learn, of home—of just a portion of her legacy. He would come to know what else she sought to build of it, knowing there was still more yet to do. He had elected to join her, and as she led them to The Nameless Mountain she warmed at the thought of his new presence there. It was only her family upon the claim, of the men there—she considered West to be her nephew, by now, and Skoll as something as a quiet brother—she mused at the thought of him integrating among them.

But he was of that same family, now, by proxy; it would be Medvjed who ultimately established his place in the end, but she suspected he would come to learn the best way to go about this. For now, though, she enjoyed silence with him, sometimes giving into bouts of chasing him (or letting him chase her!), pausing when scents grew strong or another interesting thing could be observed.

Nothing of the past here. Only the future, it seemed. The mountain loomed closer.

last from me!

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