The Heartwood the time is near. be warned.

Desdemona moved with her. Hydra pressed forward, snapping fangs seeking purchase on something, anything—whether or not they hit empty air or malleable flesh, she could not know. Her tongue was without taste; this encounter brought her little joy. She was numb in her anger; Hydra simply wanted this done. She wanted her mother to be avenged, and her father too—Speedy had taken advantage of him. 

All semblance of rationality fled as Soleil ran; it was a hunters drive that encouraged Hydra to give chase. But such a thing came to an abrupt halt when beige streaked forth from the shadows. Hydra's path changed immediately; she turned to blockade Desdemona's path with a command to fall back, delivered, attempting to leave room for her to stop before collision.

Desdemona would not fall victim to those flaying claws. Neither would she. Only Speedy would. Hydra did not watch for very long; she knew this cougar would kill the bitch, and would not intervene. Hydra did not care that she was not the one to deliver the killing blow—she only cared that it was delivered. Strange, how one gets exactly what they deserve—one way or another, Hydra murmured with a shake of her head, turning on her heel to quit the scene and encouraging Desdemona to follow. 

She hoped The Savior left no trace of her.