Moonspear and still insists he sees the ghost

The perspective of children was one she was quick to forget one she, herself, had once had when she was young enough to not know better. As a small cub, she often tried to explore beyond where she was permitted to—though her family was often able to intercept she and her sisters every efforts. It was a frustrating thing to be foiled... but some day, that all ended. Something changed—likely due to their age—and their freedoms expanded. Hydra was given the opportunity to see beyond Moonspear... 

But, in her opinion, nowhere ever matched up. All sights paled in comparison to the views Moonspear afforded her, and her family comprised its ranks. Why should she ever wish to leave that? Her loyalty to her own was surely only matched by those that shared her blood. 

Hydra pressed ahead. The trail was becoming clearer, now; her strides lengthened as she picked up her pace, pausing only now and then to circle a tree or, as she did now, inspect a pile of scat. Hours old, and not so many that they were out of reach. She stepped aside so Atlas could inspect it for himself if he desired to before she was on the move again. 

The tawny pattern of her mate was seen up ahead. Behind him, Hydra chuffed a quiet note of greeting; as she had suspected, he had detected the same thing she had. It was not at all an uncommon thing when something worthwhile came around—as leaders, they both knew that the hunt was one of the things that was essential to their packs wellbeing and always worth investigating. 

The shift in her gait was so that she could meet his own, ready to assemble the beginnings of the hunt should their eyes land upon their quarry. She, Atlas, and Dirge could begin to test the herd and observe—lessons she had instructed her children of, and that long ago they had witnessed themselves when there had been large game; some skill was inherent, too, and she felt certain their children carried that in spades.