Moonspear her wagon spokes made of long spinners' legs

It did not take long for Hydra to arrive herself, though her own approach was a strange medium between Moonspears medic and its proverbial wrecking ball. She lurked, unseen, for a moment before observing the brute that had come with the stranger. Her eyes lingered on them for a moment, the hunger in her own eyes entirely different from his own; it had nothng to do with the primal need for food, and neither did it have anything to do with lust. The Ostrega was simply a possessive woman, and she saw great use for a mindless machine. It is not hard to miss the blank look upon his countenance, that shifts to a desire for something Hydra would make perfectly clear they would not be victim to—

She knew that look. As she broke through the treeline, she wore the very same. It was the look of a woman who knew how to, who had done it—who could do it herself. Her attention did not divert from the drooling beast of a man, whose size did not worry her (she had taken down beasts of his size before, and now more than ever she was capable of it) but she listened to the woman alongside him who clearly carried his leash.