Moonspear I will keep you safe

”Lie?” Osiris echoed with concern. He held the lessons of both of his parent’s with the highest esteem, and although he was perplexed by Hydra’s timing, he took her lesson to heart—Osiris, like Hydra, would learn to loathe liars and cowards. For good measure, as he knew his words had been and would continue to be true, he offered, ”I will never lie to you, either, Mother,” before falling silent to think about what Hydra had asked. 

As he contemplated his answer, Osiris fixed his gaze along the bridge of his Hydra’s snout. ”I’m not sure,” he replied after a prolonged pause with a note of thoughtfulness in his tone. ”Will a liar always lie?” Osiris wondered. ”And will all their words be fake?” It was odd to consider this reality, as Osiris had not  been a liar thus far. 

When Osiris was presented Hydra’s foreleg, he leaned foward as he was invited and sampled the scents that had clung to her fur. There were a lot of different odors to navigate, and Osiris took his time; it seemed as though she smelled of everything, as crazy as it seemed. ”You smell like a lot of things,” Osiris admitted, his nose hovering a furs-length away from his mother’s limb. ”I smell leaves, and dirt, and grass...” he hesitated then, recognizing the smell of blood burined beneath the others, ”And blood... blood that I recognize—” the smell certainly belonged to an herbivore, but which one? ”Something that eats the grass, I know,”