Moonspear the cold and the bare grasped

She hummed in response to his comment, agreeing but also partially opposing his view. It was true, Moonspear wasn't particularly known to be welcoming, but she was afraid their reputation had softened somewhat. Hydra was essentially faultless in her eyes, though Lyra was beginning to question what made her sister so willing to take in all those who turned up at their borders. They showed up, called for an audience and flaunted their skills while saying the right words, and into the fold they went. No test, no trial, no easy way of knowing if they were going to abandon them when all was said and done.

Though it was true, those who disgraced their name were chased out and even gained a bounty if their crimes were grievous — the image of Speedy appeared in her mind which she cast away with a low rumble. If they ever saw her again...

Focusing back on her company, Lyra met his darkened gaze, glad to know he too shared her sentiments (perhaps just less intensely so). A smirk pulled on the corner of her mouth as he spoke of those who would suffer Moonspear's wrath if they made a mistake, knowing from Hydra that Dirge was more the sort to ask questions first. Too agreeable, her husband was. She would train him yet, Lyra hoped. No matter, regardless of his say, she knew her and her sisters would not shy away from simply consuming those who had made a mistake should winter prove more terrible than they anticipated.

"Mm, generosity was the wrong word," she mused before giving him a half-smile. "But I'm glad you agree." Turning then to look out over the lands below their mountain now that they were high enough, Lyra frowned as she saw how barren the landscape was. The dark spots that would usually indicate a herd grazing amongst the plains were simply not there. Even the deep paths indented in the grass while they moved about had vanished. It was a worrying sight. "Nothing," she huffed, staring despondently.