Phoenix Maplewood finders, keepers

When Alya came into view, Hydra's eyes were only for her. She did not miss the hitch in her sister's gait, but her excitement and eagerness to see her alive and well (despite her injury) took precedence as Hydra's tail waved wildly, nipping and doting on her sister in fond, sisterly kisses in equal measure. Hydra was eager to exchange scents again, and she, Lyra, and Alya communed in a way that made it hard to differentiate one from the next. Low whines and happy growls were hard to withhold, and there was little question as to whether or not Lyra and Hydra missed Alya in kind. 

Pausing in the administering of her affections, Hydra drifted toward the injured leg with a worried gaze. No tooth, no claw... Her gaze shifted to Alya and her mute question would be translatable to Alya and Lyra alone in the subtle, imperceptible gesture done to save Alya any humiliation she might have suffered on top of the pain she endured: an accident? 

Pressing between Alya and Lyra, Hydra regarded the dark she-wolf. She did not think the other the leader, if only because surely (in Hydra's opinion) she would have known Hydra from look alone (knowledge the stranger had thought to conceal, unbeknownst to the Ostrega). A leader knew their wolves, Hydra believed. 

Where is your leader? She asked in her next breath, I would like to thank them—you, too, by proxy, I suppose. You have kept her safe, Hydra spoke in earnest. It was clear Alya was no captive here, and that she had remained to recover.