For every step that Hybrid took, Gabriel waited and listened to the sound of his Hydra in the snow. There were a dozen other sounds to be heard, but they were muffled by the snow. It was interesting, though, to see the way the coyote moved. He functioned as his breed was meant to, hopping through the snow as if he was hunting for small rodents. Eventually, there was a path laid out in dead branches and twigs. Gabriel’s large paws managed to climb over the ice, and once he reached the tree, he hesitated. If Hybrid could not hold his weight, they would both end up in worse shape then before.
Digging his claws into the wood, the Aquila tested the force and found it held. Confident that Hybrid had managed to set something useful up, Gabriel’s hind legs scrambled and pushed him up the branch. He hit snow and solid ground, partially trampling over his subordinate in the process. There was only a momentary pause, in which Gabriel turned, grabbed the smaller coyote by the scruff of his neck, and threw him into the snow drift. A low, rumbling growl stayed deep in his throat, but it was not as aggressive as it was displaying domination. He was intent on proving that no one got away with making him look like a fool, even if Hybrid had not been directly responsible.
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