Moonspear I struck a match and blew your mind

Her return had held much pomp, but little fanfare (yet); she had wanted to rest with her sisters after their long journey home, and be sure the others that had come with them integrated well within their lands. Her family had been the first to know of the return of she and her twins, and she idly sought out the golden prince that had occupied her thoughts as the strength of his own scent remained. Hydra was grateful for his remaining here, and her tail swayed as she followed his trail. 

The call of another, however, gave her only a moments pause. She was certain she would find the man there, and perhaps her mother or her father, too; eager to come across their familiar features, Hydra was swift in altering her course to meet those that she had heard. 

Her proud stride shifts as she arrives before them, her gaze only for the duo at the borders. The scent of lavender drifts toward her, a sweet, soothing scent, and her eyes shift toward the scar she carries. Interested, but not yet enough to ask, her gaze then shifts toward the blonde. His furs are somehow similar to the princes, though less ruddy, she notes. He was a large wolf, larger than she herself, and yet by the way Hydra carried herself few could ever exude such a stature when they did not truly possess it. She shifts in a deferential manner to her mother, a fond nip to her chin administered as she at last pauses before the strangers. 

She had heard the golden Moonspearian speak in a manner that was familiar, though she had not heard the words in her distant approach, and so, like her mother, she listened for the moment so as to know the reason they had come for certain. The flurries that fell from the sky were not regarded by Hydra; they melted the moment they came into contact with her furs, and did not inspire her attention.