Bramblepoint my seat is leather,

It seemed the Redhawks still had beef with the Blackfeathers, which wasn't surprising. The dark pack had seemed like a scourge upon the Wilds upon her first encounter with one of their members, before Rannoch had shown his true colours. Then the triplets had almost formed a sort of alliance with that same member. Then the Redhawks had become the focus of their wrath for a bit, though really that was only because of a single member's actions. Moonspear — or, rather, the Cerberus — only truly worked with others when it suited them, if there was something to gain from such an alliance.

The boy's slurred rambling was hard to follow, though if that was the result of his concussion or just his nature, Lyra was unsure. Maybe it was both. She remained impassive as he spoke, studying his movements. She noted the pupils of his green eyes were uneven — how odd. At least the scratches on his legs and sides didn't need immediate attention. She gave a glance to Hydra with a slightly raised brow. He ran? Did that mean Titmouse was, for the most part, unharmed? Or did he suffer from a similar head wound as Tegan here? There was also the matter of Llewellyn's fate, but she left figuring that out up to Hydra.

"You remember," she said finally. "That's good." She assumed in the next couple of hours he would be in a severe amount of pain once the adrenaline wore off, if he wasn't already. "I have herbs that can help..." she trailed off before looking again to her sister warily. At Moonspear. They both knew of their father's opinions on Redhawks. The boy needed help, however, and whatever information he had on Titmouse would be invaluable to them once he was more...coherent.