Moonspear As if you knew who I am, as if you knew my name

As Lyra shifted beside him, he took notice of her guarded stance. Though he had grown used to Hydra’s sisters being there to help rear and tend to their children, they had required less of it now in the present. It was a grounding beacon in a very dark world, enough to soften the mild annoyance he had harbored for her earlier curt, cutting words. She was right to be guarded—wolfkillers was a more apt name than the fiends he thought them to be, though they were ultimately still very fiendish in their delights.

Osiris could have been just as harsh in his choice of words, but instead was not. Perhaps not too dissimilar to Dirge, he was a fountain of information; he was fair about it. Yet it stirred discomfort somewhere in the depths, reminded him that if nothing else they deserved to hunt those fiends down and finish them as they had sought to find their own. Despite that, it had been better that they simply protected their own, to lie in wait on the chance that they would strike again as they had.

His gaze returned to the would-be mother instead, and her plight.

“Where are you from? Perhaps if it isn’t too far, we could arrange an escort of sorts. In good faith, of course. The wretch and her companion are not the only ones who lurk out there that we or our neighbors have had issue with—perhaps it would be best to inform your leaders as well.” Best for them to gain another ally if nothing else, he thought, and believed such a thing would appease Hydra as well in the exchange.

The notion her worry could be for anything else was but a hazy thought elsewhere.