Moonspear and still insists he sees the ghost

She observed her son, who seemed to have forgotten how committed he was to his own duties as of late; she saw no fault in that, so long as he came when needed—which, he always had. Her eyes were bright as she drawled, oh, I think he could be convinced, with a wave of her tail and a smirk to match his own. Her mate kept busy as of late, no doubt partially due to her own spurning of his advances given her season not yet arriving. But it was near enough, now, where she desired to spend all of her days with him and incorporate him in each activity. 

Hunting with him was one of her favorites. 

Moving into a trot, Hydra continued after the trail of the herd. They had a mile or three to go it seemed. The scent of her mate seemed to mingle, now, with the trail—though only through the wind rather than the path that they followed. And as she suspected, it seemed they had elected to move upward into the forested upper reaches. The path that lay before them was not a difficult one, as fortune would have it—no doubt thanks to the quarry they followed. They were not as proficient at scaling difficult trails as the mountain goat.