Moonspear meet at the crossroad of the divine

She found him at least, her footfalls light but easily heard off leaf litter and scattering stones. He turned to meet her with a faint smile and a wave of his tail, but there was already something in the way she greeted him that told him there was much to be said. It didn't take long either; Hydra was far from the sort to linger and dance around news to be shared, good or bad.

At first, such news started off good in his opinion—she had been successful where he had not—but then it took a grim turn quicker than a thunderstorm blotted out the afternoon sun. And what a hellacious storm it would have been, he thought, had she not the sense to discern that something ailed an otherwise promising meal. Any trace of warmth had left him as his mind set to working, though he couldn't have claimed what exactly was wrong with the creature; it was not hard for him to picture a certain stagger, a hoarse bellow from its throat, and the unbridled rage of a creature marching through the gates of an magnificent hell.

He need more details, and prompted her for such.

"Where did you see it?"