Moonspear exchange my cross for a crown

The movement of Alya, the uncertain ripple of her muscles as she shifted, was what roused Hydra within their muddled mess of limbs and heads. Truly if any were to come across them like this they would think they had found a cerberus. Two of the heads rested easily, but they slept with one pair of eyes open. Blinking, Hydra regarded the minute gesture of her sisters with a swiftness that befitted any who might wish to call themselves guardian. She and Alya both worked at untangling themselves, a quick thing really, and Hydra grimaced as she noted how deep the other must be within their territory for it to smell this strong. 

It did not bode well for the mystery wolf. Hydra nipped Lyra fondly to rouse her further; they needed their wits about them. And then she set off, moving where the wind guided—she was certain that her right and left hand were with her still. Hydra wanted the stranger to cover no more ground than they already had, and moved at a rapid clip.