Silverlight Terrace benevolent surrealism

Hydra rarely left Moonspear. She had done so twice in her life, once with her father and once without. There was never a reason to go without him when he was so willing to join her if she asked, but in entering the beginnings of her teenaged years Hydra felt a rare streak of independence. Not from Alya or Lyra, of course—and though they knew of her planned excursion, she needed them to stay to cover for her if need be. They both understood the necessity of that, and two was needed in the beginnings of their striking into the world beyond Moonspear. But she had promised to not go too far, and truly she had not. 

The first time she had went on a journey alone she had met the dashing Rian, a male that never really left her mind. There was a large part of her that struck out in hopes to see him, though she went in the opposite direction that they had met. Maybe he would come to her, she fantasized; he knew she lived upon the mountain, and Lyra had said that would be a very chivalrous thing for him to do. Prince or no prince, Hydra realized that she did desire someone who would go out of their way to see her... it just sounded nice. And if someone could do that for her, she could do that for them. But she was a go-getter; if she could cause the timeline of the in-between of their reunion to shorten, she would try to. 

But the wolf she came across looked nothing like him. She had meandered a while, sniffed around, and tracked a scent all the way to a snoozing wolf. Hydra was not too close to them, and without a hint of remorse yelled: Hey, wake up!