Moonspear house of leaves

Hydra had not been following the trail of Atlas, though was pleasantly surprise to see him ahead. First the dark outline of him, and then, as he drew nearer in the rains, the sharp cut of his features that made him unmistakably her son. She had already lurked the flatter parts of their territory to inspect it and get an idea of what it looked like. Naturally, the rains effected these parts far more than the upper reaches. 

Her gaze followed his own, though did not carry half as much interest in it. Licking her chops, the muddied matriarch wordlessly moved to meet him where he stood.