Moonspear fresh static snow

While Lyra searched, Hydra had paused in her search of prey for but a moment. Hard-working though she was, she was ever well-maintained. Though she (and her sisters) had inherited their mothers wild appearance, one would not know it by the look of them. Hydra's teeth were meticulous as they combed against her shoulder blade, now, flattening the furs neatly. Her tongue and snowmelt alike brought about a sparkling sheen, and she moved to now nibble the lower furs of her foreleg so not a single one was out of order. 

Near her knee, just above it, Hydra caught sight of something strange; she paused for a moment, sniffing at the small, inky thing that protruded. She was quick to inspect the left side, where she saw nothing of the sort. Blinking, Hydra again moved to groom the right... there, the spot remained. Growling, Hydra sniffed at it; it was not of her body. Her tongue laved against it, but it did not move—what was this?! Hydra rose, unsettled, and sought out Lyra... thinking she would know.