Moonspear the problem with potions

It did not take very long at all; Hydra's path ever seemed to preternaturally arc toward her sisters trail when they thought of her, or felt in dire need, even without knowing it. It was much the same with them. Since having children especially it had amplified; when exhausted, there would be Alya or Lyra to relieve her without a word of beckoning. Being as close as they were it wasn't beyond the realm of normal to consider that truly, they just knew. And when the children had come, in the early months, it could be difficult distinguish three from one. 

Hydra got the sense that it was more difficult for one than the rest. And she could not let that be; she blamed the tripod for it, and need not admit it for Alya to understand as much. Nikai was as avoidant as she; part of her hoped Alya would bring him to the coast so that he could be swept away to sea and gone from their lives forever. It was no wonder Alya had not produced; Hydra thought Nikai a decent man, but a protector and provider? She was not so sure. But who could ever be worthy of Alya, of Lyra? Hydra knew they likely had their own doubts on Dirge, even after all these years—that was the way of them. 

Approaching their cave of bones and blinking with recognition to where it was she had ended up, her eyes found Alya. Drawing nearer to her and pressing close, Hydra breathed in the scent of her. She knew soon her sister would be going to the coast, and valued every millisecond she could have Alya near to her. Feel her heartbeat and her pulse, and know that no matter how far she went it would ever beat the same.