Firefly Glen the grand optimist

He headed back towards the mountain, snaking his way back through familiar paths that drew him through the heart of the glen. He had turned up nothing much beyond its range but wasn't about to try and go back empty-handed—the glen was a familiar hunting ground for Moonspear, and he hoped that they had not driven it clean at the middle point of winter.

All it seemed well within, however.

He took to worn paths they had forged with the latest snow, eyes picking through the bare undergrowth for any sign of something interesting. At that point he would have settled for a stringy hare, if only to let his children wrestle over. A pheasant would have been nice too... but that seemed wishful thinking. He couldn't remember the last time he had caught sight of them in the glen, not unless he happened to discover them along some errant creek streaking a path through.

Instead of finding either of those things, it was voices that he heard instead. Distant at first, out of his focus. It did not take much to pique his interest these days and being so close to the mountain, that interest took precedence. He first caught sight of her between close-packed trees and knew the pitch of her coat well, but the second? He could not recall someone with such a seal brown cloaking him. For just the flicker of a moment, he thought perhaps he had stumbled across Lyra negotiating a liaison of sorts, but no.

Hydra, wait, he heard, and listened more as he slipped to eavesdrop nearby.

y'all can decide whether or not he gets seen/found out/whatever