Wild Berry Meadow she the full moon, he the werewolf

Her sisters flank her mutely, and their gaze mirrors hers. From the woods, he comes, and Hydra's expression shifts into one of delight. He had once detested this place, she thought; she had been wrong, and she wondered at his shift of opinion. Perhaps it was the man they had once hated together that caused his feelings... she had not caught wind of him here. Hydra hated him no more, however. Any enemy of her enemy was now considered a friend. It was not that she considered Rannoch an enemy, but that he felt such a way in regards to her; vapid, dense boy. His fool mind would get him killed, someday. 

His husky voice fills the air, and Hydra recalls, briefly, Vela's interest in him. Were she not certain that the freckled girl would give him her own piece of mind should she find him (when she found him), her reception of him would be sour. As it was, Hydra had no bone to pick with him; she had understood that his stay was to fulfill a duty to her, and he had been more than willing to do so. He had played his part perfectly, and now he had returned to the place he had been prepared to betray. 

Hydra had no reason to betray Drogon, though, and the smile she offered him was neither cruel nor cold. I wanted to see for myself if it were true—your return to this place, she admitted, drawing near to him, no sign of impending violence upon her person. Her nose would seek to drift over his furs, inspecting, should he permit that proximity, though before the distance was bridged entirely she admitted: I was disappointed you left without a farewell... though she supposed she understood. He likely did not wish to respond to the diatribe of Vela, or perhaps he thought he might have incurred her own wrath—but the lack of anger in her tone suggested her lack of surprise that he had left at all, to begin with.