Bramblepoint my seat is leather,

Lyra's eyes flashed with rage as she split from her sisters and took to the shadows of the trees at Hydra's command. Alive. How? Hydra had privately expressed her doubts regarding the fate of the cowardly boy, despite Towhee's recount when she had visited them. Tore out his throat and threw him over a cliff. But the familiar scent they now followed through the woods was unmistakeable. He had survived it all, somehow. They should have taken his head instead, all those moons ago.

Who they found eventually, however, was not the one they sought, though for a moment it looked as if Hydra was going to kill the stranger regardless. She halted at the last second, and Lyra watched from the tree line silently, studying the state the wolf was in. No, not any wolf. This was the child who had accompanied Towhee on their trip to Moonspear. He lurched backwards with a groan, his movements groggy and unbalanced. Perhaps it would have been more merciful to put an end to his suffering.

At Hydra's summons, Lyra stepped out obediently, eyes trained upon the grey-clad boy. She felt her muscles tighten as he relayed information; she was angry with him, angry with Llewellyn (why hadn't they informed them beforehand? They could have lent their teeth!), but mostly, she was angry at Titmouse. It seemed kidnapping was another crime to add to his ever-growing list. She wouldn't be surprised if half the Wilds wanted his head by now. Stepped towards Tegan, Lyra tipped her head slightly to study his wounds, though she was most concerned with his apparent head injury.

"The fight — do you remember what happened?" she asked, partly to test his short term memory, though a larger part of her wanted to know exactly what happened. What sort of state he had left his opponent in.