Bramblepoint in the deep of the night, near the edge of the know

His talk was nearly dizzying to Hydra, who could be eloquent when she desired but rarely did she. It was better to be succinct, to get to the point—but this was different, somehow. It felt that every word he spoke built a road, and she found herself trailing it, taking to its curves and its sudden turns with eager anticipation of what lingered at the end.

He spoke in request of a riddle, and Hydra grinned as he went on. As his gaze fell upon where she had been, her gaze looked toward the direction he was, though she could not see him with the tree between them. Then does not matter, she decreed, and even though you are not the one I sought, here you are—found, Hydra grinned. I could not tell you of my own soul, but I would not liken it to the sun—the sun, well, you think it is warm and kind and brilliant, but then it blinds you. Cruel, Hydra sighed. Truth be told, Hydra coud be compared to the sun for those same reasons, but she did not see that in herself.

Your steps have lingered, Hydra huffed, playful, is that what you have been doing? Searching, and memorizing the places you have been? Romantic! the teenager thought—how sweet! All for the one he may some day love!