Altar of Twilight my own lived mythology

Hydra had desired that he speak more, if only to learn. What he provided her did not help her at all, though—it echoed her sentiments, but she did not learn anything new or useful. Hydra's eyes drifted slowly over to Drogon as he spoke, but her eyes were back upon Ganondorf. He spoke on not following their beliefs any longer, but these were all words. She had trusted Drogon because he truly had no attachments there, but the ties of this wolf were far more prominent.

He put his literal neck on the line, and Hydra had yet to decide if she would take him up on his offer. He had come to survive, and yet he was ready to die? Perhaps she should kill him. She could sense her sisters mute agreement, and the blue-eyed Ostrega at the center contemplated in long moments of silence.

When she spoke, she still had not come to a decision. If I am to accept you among us, I must know you are a wolf to be trusted, Hydra decided at last. As I said, I seek but one wolf. Would you lead me to him? Would you watch, as I do what I must, without retaliation? Hydra tilted her head as she watched him, her eyes cold and calculating. This was more than a question, it would become an expectation. She thought of her fathers words, of his plan. Drogon and Ganondorf could lead her exactly to where it was she wanted to go in the battle to be had—a battle she did not reveal to Ganondorf, in case he were to be a spy. If he were, it would be of no consequence to Moonspear, Hydra decided—after all, it was not Moonspear who had decided to march against Blackfeather.