Haunted Wood she was an orphan but raised by a cousin, who gave her the time

Hydra came forward from the mist, acknowledging the low growl with a twitch of her notched ear. She paused for a moment, to look the other over with keen interest apparent. It was her scent that Hydra had noted, here there and everywhere within this place. But there was more familiarity than that, and Hydra looked to the others features to seek just why that was. Her gaze drifted to the others feet—as large as a man she had once known, and who was long since dead. 

Her gaze flit back to the girls face. She wished to have her suspicions confirmed, and was not one to waste her own time. If she was wrong, there was no reason to linger. Correct me, if I am wrong, she started. There were several differences between the girl and the man, too. Her cleanliness for one, and the absence of the stench of rot. The red furs, too—an entire contrast from Vengeance's darker hues. Where Conquest was fire, Vengeance was ash. You are the daughter of Vengeance, she guessed, giving the girl room to state the contrary.