Moonspear Leave me your wake to remember you by

Her season had her, naturally, preoccupied; she kept away from the borders so as to not risk any errant men coming near for the strength of it, and the beacon that it was. For the most part Hydra was with @Dirge—hunting, playing, sparring—but this hour found her (temporarily) alone. No doubt Dirge was somewhere near, not inclined to let others too close (curious sons included)—but as she rest beneath a large coniferous tree her mother had once favored, the matriarch opened one eye to find herself by her lonesome. Near enough to a lake for Hydra not to think anything of it, she blinked the sleep from her eyes and yawned. 

Stretching, Hydra soon came to a stand and settled on her hindquarters. She looked unkempt (albeit well-rested), and noting this she began one of her typical rituals of grooming herself and putting her furs back into place with her teeth. It was soothing work, and distracted her from the ever-burning fire that was lit within her while Dirge likely quenched his thirst. The sound of anothers approach was heard even through the fog Hydra waded through throughout her season; she paused in her ministrations to look toward the direction that it came from. Her own scent was too strong for her to depict who this scent belonged to, though as deep as she was within the territory Hydra did not suspect trespasser. 

Still, even in her repose Hydra appeared at the ready to disarm the other should that be the case. Her eyes held fast to the direction she heard the sound and she was silent herself; her scent spoke volumes, and it was not something that she could hide in the thick of it. It was hard to really think in it, and yet she held onto that sliver of clarity as her self-preservation took precedence.