Moonspear sons and daughters, stepping to the raging waters

Hydra considered for a moment; sickness he had smelled, though he might not remember the lesson for what it was, as he had been so young. You have, she corrected, but you were young. The day we ate the apples, came her reminder. Could he remember that? When did a childs memory truly begin to collect information? Hydra hated to think her children might have forgotten, though it was far from the realm of possibility due to their youth then. The scent of disease she wanted them to remember, that particular strain one she wanted them to avoid... forever. As for fear? You would not know the scent of fear, though. Moonspear is well protected and fortified by all of our pack, she explained, though when you know it, the scent of fear for what it is, it is quite obvious. Sickness—it is obvious in that your instinct will warn you to avoid it. Her tail lashed at that; from there, you could pull the scent of sickness to know why such a thing was felt. 

No? She asked, rhetorically. The creature had not been sick, and it was not old; nor was it young, though. The exact age from there was difficult to interpret; one could not pinpoint things to a precise moment in terms of that. What could be distinguished, though, was that the bull had reached the age to breed. Her own nose was keen enough to pull such information apart; Hydra was more than adept, a near master in this ability, too. Yes, she answered then, and said: focus on that bloodscent. It is more concentrated where it has fallen, she informed. It was likely an old wound that had opened up during travel, that blood was not everywhere... but the way the blood spattered was telling, in reference to where the wound might be.