Moonspear every night falls prey to sunrise

She did not think he would linger, but she did not alter her path regardless. If this were not a game, she would have altered her trajectory in anticipation of his next movement. As it were, she was content and willing to be a step behind for a time. That did not mean she was not fully invested in getting her revenge—she was very certain that she would. Hydra did not believe he would get comfortable and assume she had slowed down any; he knew her far better than that. 

He seemed to still know the terrain well. But she knew them better, no doubt; it came with living the entirety of her years here. Still, he had just as much experience in this place with the snows as she did. Hydra had experienced her first year as an adult in the snows only a year ago, and he had been here too. And though she knew snow well enough, she was not so well-versed in it as he was. It slowed her down some, where the stuff was not entirely compact thanks to treeboughs unburdening themselves. Not enough, though, for him to make an entirely clean get away. Hydra maneuvered to get in front of him, rounding a tree and leaping for a coniferous limb—

Kamikaze. But if it worked, it was for the greater good; snow poured over her eyes, not permitted her to witness her success (or her failure).