Moonspear every night falls prey to sunrise

They had made it in good time, to her pleasure. She was always eager to be home, and Hydra had placed her claim upon him on their way here. He was now on the pursuit of true happiness (within her mind). Hydra could not know the weight the decision he had made placed upon him. Even if he shared that weight, she would not understand it—she was no empath, and she herself had always felt free and untethered. Her parents allowed her every freedom in the world, and she repaid them fully. 

In any case, she thought of the future without worry or fear. All was well within her own world; she gazed at a peak, and pictured she, Dirge, and her sisters observing the quarry of the herds that often moved through their territory, finding the weak from above—that was when, distracted, Dirge managed to best her, and the whole of Hydra's mass fell easily into a loose snowdrift. 

She erupted from the pale stuff, an explosion of white loosed, and Hydra came for him with a row of dangerous teeth looking every bit the snow monster. There was no true lethality to her movements, but a sharp cunning in her eye: she would get him back, for that.