Moonspear can you try me (try me)

Silent as an owl on the wing, she arrived. 

A whine, hardly perceptible above the melodies of morning birds, caught his attention and he twisted an ear to better discern the direction while his eyes darted sideward at the flash of movement in his periphreal. The wind did not favor him and he could not discern if this was friend, foe, or even the source of that wolfish sound. But Rian was prepared for the inevitable repercussions of his proximity to Moonspear, and immediately twisted in place and propelled forward a few stiff steps to face the approaching wolf head on. 

But as she—she—neared, Rian was taken aback by the shock of fathomless cerulean that whorled with unfettered confusion at the sight of—could it be? A sharp inhale sliced through his mouth as it parted to claim the air his lungs now desperately sought. The raven-furred beast didn't so much as curtail her advance and his inky lips suffered a fleeting tremor as he wrest control of his instinct, and thrust his heart into the vacancy it left as she neared. He ducked his chin to protect himself—three yards—one—a hair's breadth...

Hydra.

The stunning realization came as her wind-chilled nose connected with the muscular juncture of his shoulder and neck, burrowing deep beneath the silken length of his guard hairs. He saw her—knew her. The notch in her ear, the eternal night of her eyes, and the marked scent of pine, soil, and snow on her fur. Rian had grown into himself since their last meeting—a dense musculature filled out his gangling, coltish frame over the winter, giving him an remarkably regal appearance in contrast to the unkempt ruffian of a yearling he once was. 

Rian lifted his chin, turned, and cautiously leaned in to sniff the base of her ear. His nose twitched as he maintained a wary eye on the line of her body in case she found him wanting.