Bramblepoint königinklinge

The time was returning. 

It was something she could sense; something likely all could sense. Again things would change; Hydra sighed at the thought of it. This year, things would be different than the last. This year, Hydra would make sure there was no doubt as to what was expected. She would not again suffer from anothers indiscretion; they would be held responsible, through and through. With winter being as it had been this year, she suspected at the very least it would be understood. Waste not, want not—was that not the way of things? 

Perhaps she was thinking of it wrong. But the way it sounded in her mind soothed her enough to find peace. 

In any case, the words of Dragomir resounded within her head; she had wanted to inspect the place for signs of others staying here, but the remnants were threadbare. It did not seem like any were here, at least not now; perhaps the group had been simply passing through. As to that, she could not be sure—but as she moved around the bramblewood, that was how it seemed and smelled to her. One scent seemed to linger more than the others, but it was not so very longlasting that she perceived they had been here for a great amount of time. She decided already she would return with him to further inspect. 

The Queen prepared to return to her homestead when the familiar gradient of Mahler came into view. Given pause, and curious for his presence there, Hydra's ears pressed forward with interest. General, she hummed from afar; keen as their ears were, she did not doubt the strong man would hear her. In case he was simply passing through, she said nothing more but for that, watchful and not at all aloof. She would welcome his company; he had not been the unpleasant sort, the last she had seen of him.