Moonspear “take my pride, take my life, take my body”

Hydra listened to the boy, taking all of these descriptions in, absorbing them; her retention was impeccable, even when moved to wrath. As the boy spoke of coming with them, Hydra looked to him. She doubted he would listen, impassioned and emboldened as he was, but still, flatly, Hydra said: no. You are injured. I ask that you rest, for the time being. Arcturus and I leave now, she looked to Lyra, licking her chops. He had trespassed and so she was not inclined to waste herbs on him... but if he needed them, Hydra was not a thankless woman. Though letting him survive at all did feel thanks enough. 

Perhaps not. Looking to Orochi, Hydra drawled, Lyra can tend to your injuries, if you would like, in the meantime. Should you like to stay, you may—but if you elect to leave, take this information with you: trespassers are often killed. Be careful, she drawled. She hoped that he would heed her words; but if he did not, she did not imagine she would see him again. Not as she did now, in one whole piece. Strangely, even despite his error here, she did not want that for him... but only he could decide his own fate.

But she thought little else on the topic, moving, now, to head toward the Haunted Wood, though not before nosing her mirror image and looking to Yama, a pleased rumble sounding from her for her presence there.