Moonspear I only see what matters

Hydra had yet to discern what, exactly, it was that trailed her. She only knew she was being trailed; the wind was in their favor, whatever it might be. Subordinate or otherwise, she would play the game for a while and decide a course where she could shift all into her favor. Perhaps it was one of the children training... or any of her subordinates. Eyes opened, now, Hydra's navigation improved; the matriarch turned a sharp corner and, seeing the rocky face beside her, decided her own plan.

Stealthily Hydra ascended only some of the way up; her inky coat blended perfectly well with the shadow and flat grey of the stony slab she lingered upon. From her perch above, Hydra was utterly still and crouched so as to not be seen, waiting for the being that stalked after her to present themselves in this way. The tables would turn once she did; the firm snow would not have betrayed her maneuvering, though the questionable and abrupt end of her scent-trail might be cause for concern. 

A good one, too; she would be swift to act once she had her own visual.