Moonspear can you try me (try me)

Contact. 

Her nose set to work, inhaling where it landed. He was far sturdier than she recalled, but any doubt she had imagined snapped into two as the musk that was inarguably his own came to her. Hydra could not believe it—she had, truth be told, thought she would never see him again. When he had gone to find Cypress, he had not come to Moonspear to announce success or failure. Though she had searched for him beyond her packlands, she had never been able to find him. Hydra had shifted between two mindsets: that he had passed, which she could not entirely convince herself, or that he had simply moved on. The latter thought pained her just as much as the first, her pride a large part of who she was. 

There were no other familiar scents upon him. No scent of the Vale, no scent of Cypress... and, as an added bonus, no other women (strange or recognized) she needed to kill...

But she could hardly think of those things. For a moment, she let herself remain here; she feared if she moved, he might no longer be there. But as his cool nose touched the base of her ear, she withdrew from his side to look at him. He was handsome, more handsome than she remembered. Sturdy and strong. That he was here now very clearly meant he had not forgotten her, or—

Or had he come for Rannoch? 

She could not find her eloquence or her tongue to ask. She simply watched him, observant and wary as well as uncertain. What did she say? What did she do? What did he want? I looked for you, she started. She could never find him—his travels led him far out of her reach. Half or her was irate that he had moved so far from here prior to Winter, though the other half of her understood that if it were her sisters, she would do the same. 

But what now? 

Rannoch and Liffey left, she said in her next breath, if you are looking for them, they are not here anymore—I am not sure where they went, she knew the importance of family to him and did not want to mislead him—but what she knew for certain was that none of his brothers had looked for him as she had. Rian had searched for others as Hydra searched for him, and really, though even now she would not admit it, she had not entirely given up on her search. 

Hydra had always imagined laying into him when she found him. Ripping him a new one for not coming to tell her his search might take a little longer, and he was going to search a little further, a little longer. But she found no hatred in her heart, no anger—you imagine all these things you want to say, but you see the person and you cannot think to wound them in any capacity. Not only this, but there was the part of her that felt he had not come back for her at all, but to be with his remaining brother. Avarice and avaritia demand she do something—she was not soft, nor particularly sweet.  

It was her shock that caused her remaining stillness, and perhaps some disbelief, too. Perhaps she had ingested some of Lyra's newfound herbs on accident.