Duck Lake don't know what you've heard about me

Hydra's tongue continued its rough course against the skin until it wore away. The task was a soothing one that caused her rampant mind to slow for a time, though as her eyes caught the ripples left in the wake of the other, she came to. Her eyes found the form of the pale stranger, who did not seem interested in engaging them. Lyra sensed her shift in demeanor, and though she did not look it Hydra sensed that she was at attention. For her own part, she did as she often did during this journey—she looked for any recognition that might be drawn from him, or familiarity. As of yet he presented none, but perhaps he had not seen her properly. And so Hydra stood, shaking the dust and dirt from her furs, and though her face turned toward Lyra (who looked as though she was dozing) her attentions were locked upon the palest wolf present.