Big Salmon Lake hateraid

She looked to her right, until she felt the weight of his gaze upon her. Then Hydra turned her face back toward him, noting his course and more importantly that he had moved toward her. Hydra, too, was afraid—though as to why, she was uncertain. Hydra had never endured the evils of the world, and lived a good and safe life upon Moonspear. Floki was the first true wolf in her life that could be considered a significant loss, but was he gone? Hydra did not know how to think it so. Not knowing death, she could not form the thought or even the idea. She could only wonder. 

Hydra was keenly aware of the absence of her sisters, though. Her left and right. The halves that made her whole. Who she was without them was not yet known to Hydra. She struggled to find some semblance of self, but could grip nothing. Her breath formed small clouds around her nostrils, and her plume lashed behind her. She stood there, appearing self-assured, though her ears flicked atop her head. Hydra, unused to company unless it belonged to a wolf within her fathers ranks, was uncertain as to what to do. She protected nothing on these free lands, and so had no need to behave in an aggressive manner as was her typical nature. Not territorial over this scrap of land, Hydra determined that more than anything else, even over her uncertainty and the measure of fear it brought her, she was curious. And so she, too, darted some odd steps forward, her ears pricked atop her crown.