Moonspear sons and daughters, stepping to the raging waters

Hydra watched her son, curious as to what he could discern. His reaction filled the new mother with glee; he knew blood, at least, though he could not see it yet. Hydra nodded to his inquiry so he could know he was correct there, too. As for his next statement, Hydra revealed: our nose will find what are eyes cannot spot. This is true for all things. A wolf might not look afraid, but they will smell it. A wolf might present as hearty and hale, but the scent of sickness on them will indicate the truth of it. Our prey can appear strong and in good condition, but our nose will tell us if our eyes cannot where weakness might lay. Age, illness—as I have mentioned—...recent injury, due to blood or the scent of infection it cannot fight off, she informed, ear twitching. Each of her lessons were meant to inform her children of more than how to apply their senses than just the moment they were in. 

Watchful of him, Hydra then said: look not with your eyes now, but with your nose. She did not mean for him to close his eyes, only that he ought to mind his nose more here and now. There were a great many other scents that might distract, but he had his target in the scent he had already acknowledged: blood.