Moonspear confident

Hydra was used to the feeling of eyes watching her. If it was not Alya and Lyra, it was Arcturus, or Revui. The silver boy had gained her approval over time, proving his tenacity. Her affinity with Arcturus remained, too—it seemed that other than she and her mirror images, the Ostrega men were born with the urge to fight within them. After all, Jarilo had also earned her acceptance with his interest in sparring. And so the eyes of the gold once-prince were recognized but not yet acknowledged, as her attention was for the borders. She continued along them, ears flicking as she thought. Her notched ear cupped backward as she heard an unfamiliar gait from her rear, and it was then her attention shifted from her work.

She had not met this wolf before, she knew at once. If his gait had not revealed this to her, his appearance would have. He was unlike any wolf she had ever seen, his coat a hue she had observed only in flowers and in the Harvest Moon. He was handsome, undoubtedly so—the scars only made him all the more appealing. His posture acknowledged her station, and Hydra was pleased by this. His words were heard but not known, though he was quick to translate.

Hydra bridged the gap between them without hesitation. He smelled of her family, but now he would also smell of her should he permit the proximity as she moved to companionably greet him. The Ostrega girl was as bold as she was proud, and she turned to move beside him. His accent was not one she could place, and Hydra's interest was apparent. I would not, she responded, tail swaying as she accepted his offer. I have not had the pleasure of meeting you, yet—I am Hydra, she introduced, her ears pricked forward. He looked to be a warrior, and she wondered about his interest in pursuing that here—she could not help but hope so.