Moonspear shelter

Hydra became mute. Her hackles lifted—she knew Lyra was near. She even knew her direction, and Hydra looked that way, a compass drawn to her North. One ear flicked as she heard the rustling, and then the sound of her sisters voice. You lost, and so, you are the stinky skunk, she decreed, her eyes hard as she swung—intentionally—in the opposite direction. Hydra rounded a broad tree before she, herself, crouched and crawled silently forward. Her smile was crocodilian as she prowled, pantheric in movement.