Wild Berry Meadow she the full moon, he the werewolf

His admittance is acknowledged with a low-throatted sound that indicated she agreed, but there was nothing to be done for it. He had, and now what? He was here, of all places. She did recall his fascination with their ways, but he had despised the pale-coated man she had throttled to the degree that caused him to quit them altogether. She caught no sign of him, as Drogon let her near, but there was something else she caught upon his furs. Her reaction was noted only by her sisters, who looked into the woods rather than at them. 

Hydra withdrew, neither angry or hateful toward him. But there was a storm in her eyes, and her voice was a thunderclap as she spoke the word: Titmouse. She would know it anywhere. But it was not at all the scent she expected—he was meant to be dead. But here was proof that he lived still. Would he know the name? Would he react to it? 

Would he bring him to her?