Moonspear White And Red Roses

The wolf looked back. 

Hydra froze for a moment; surprise was clear upon her features, but only for a moment. 

Korei Julia. In heat, trespassing, here of course; Hydra could not believe her sisters misfortune. Her own, too; her face morphed into one of terrible anger as she stared at her pale littermate, estranged, disowned, despised—but never wished dead. Not once. Why did her sister wish for that herself? Why did she ever do this to her? 

Provoked by her scent, Hydra moved again, a step closer, contemplating. You trespassed, Korei Julia, came her voice, a voice not her own. A voice that trembled. Anger, fear, sadness? Another step forward. Leave. Run. Do not come back. She had already told her sister as much, and yet there she stood. Hydra looked over her sisters shoulder to the vast nothingness beyond, her blue eyes then shifting back to here sisters features. You should not be here. You never should have come back. 

There was nothing for her here now but graves.