Phoenix Maplewood The Art of Self-Fashioning

being a little vague!!!

 

Her mind echoed her sisters final thoughts. Too kind. As Timberlake dozed, Hydra could not help but feel that those of Morningside were very lucky that they were not monsters... and as the Beta idly licked at her foreleg to groom it, she felt she ought to warn them that they existed. That one might be lurking. Alya was safe, fed, and healing—she supposed she owed them this. 

But for now, the Ostrega was happy to be whole again. There was much she wanted to discuss, and yet, she was content for the moment to bask in the combined presence of her sisters. Hydra had yearned for this in their travels, and here it was. Alya was the first to speak, and Hydra paused in her meticulous self-grooming. Hydra shifted toward her sister, selfishly pressing nearer while minding the sleeping cub, not wanting him to stir. 

Weeks ago, when they were home and Alya had begun her travel, she had felt a strange sort of stirring within her. It was a feeling reminiscent of a flower, blooming, but it had given her pause. Now she knew for certain what this feeling must have meant and as Alya named the inky man she and Lyra had met, Hydra's ears flicked thoughtfully. 

We met him, Hydra spoke, he had been happy to see you again, though was disappointed to learn we were not who he hoped we would be, she grinned at that. He was very concerned that you might be hurt. He may be looking for you as we speak, she drawled, not yet revealing that he had found what he had called 'low-hanging' fruit in the interim. Not because she wanted to hide it from Alya, or protect her from such knowledge, but because she was not truly focused on him... simply Alya. Tell us everything, she breathed, moving to preen at her sister's shoulder.