Firefly Glen follow your fire

hope you don't mind me! I've been stalking Annaliese.

 

Hydra moved through the Glen, the fog lending assistance to her senses as she prowled for more than just rabbit, fox, or yote. A large substantial meal had not been found since the day she had found that ill moose, who was never to be seen again. She wondered, idly, if Sarah had found it—if she had, Hydra hoped that it was far, far away from here. She knew the Glen as well as she knew Moonspear, so often had she come here to hunt and linger here in her youth. It had been one of her fathers favorite territories, she recalled fondly, as she moved mutely within it. 

When her children were old enough she would take them here to see it. In the summer and the spring, the fireflies looked as though they were stars in motion. Charon had loved the stars; she imagined that was why he had loved the Glen so. Now the place was in utter contrast to what it had been; if Charon had the power to, she imagined with his last inhale he would have taken the Glen with him, sucking the life from it so that it would look as it did today. 

Cold, desolate; the rolling fog his final exhale, everlasting. 

But this was just a day as any other. Tomorrow, the fog would likely be gone. Death was death; Charon's power had been in his life, and the power he carried beyond it was within her family. The weight of it was much, but Hydra carried it and made it appear as though it was nothing. It was something she had always been meant for, worked for all her life, and so it was no wonder—yet she had not anticipated him not being here for it. For her. For this. 

Her thoughts wandered, but they ceased upon her observation of a shape beneath a barren tree. Red of fur, Hydra observed, and thought only of the wolf Andraste had once described to her. The murderous boy. Or perhaps it was simply a fox; the fog shrouded the other just so, and Hydra could not determine what, or who, it was that lay out of reach. And so the Queen took but one step closer, the grey, rolling mists revealing only the vibrancy of her depthless blue eyes. She chuffed then, hoping to garner the attention of the other in full. Hydra remained guarded, not so foolish as to anticipate that she would be regarded in a positive manner if this was prey or the predator she hunted, either.