Moonspear Words mean nothing when your lips are so blue

Hydra blinked as, shortly after her arrival, the stranger turned and fled. Looking to Dragomir as he spoke, Hydra frowned before she descended to the place where Sunniva had stood. Sniffing at the earth, Hydra could smell the sickness. She looked to Dragomir, deducing quickly enough what sort of help she might have needed. Loyalty was a good offer, but in these tumultuous times the wolves she sought were not of the unhealthy variety. 

Loyalty is one of my favored traits in a wolf, but she was ill... and, evidently, fickle, the last two things she was entirely disinterested in; and fickle was the only true explanation she could rationalize then and there. In any case, it was for the best, she thinks, stepping aside to give Dragomir room to inspect if he wished to. Hydra looked over her shoulder, watching the stranger retreat. These days, we must be a little more selective in who we permit among us. I seek wolves in better health than she had been, as times are hard; wolves fit enough to hunt, and to fight or defend. Lyra can heal, but she herself has precious few resources due to the season to spare. I would rather those resources be used upon those who have proven their loyalty, if need be, she shares with Dragomir, blue gaze now turning to regard him.