Deepwood Weald Check the cupboard for your daddy's gun

He received her well, and it drew Hydra nearer for a time—up until the very moment he accepted her request. But it was the way in which he accepted it which struck her. Take it from me. That perhaps she could do, and do it well—she was swift, unparrallelled there except, perhaps, by those that mirrored her. She was a natural, though her practice made her all the better. He stood over his meal, and Hydra recalled her mothers advice: move the opponent. 

So Hydra circled in a loose arc around him, her eyes sharp as she recalled the words of Dakarai. She searched for weakness, looking for any fresh wounds or scars that would betray him. A deep inhale foretold that he had no illnesses, and Hydra continued to circle, feinting toward a rear-leg before withdrawing entirely to continue her full circle around him, watchful of his every move, looking for any telltale ripples within his body to betray his intent.