Moonspear we receive you

At his offer, Hydra nodded. She didn't see why not. He mentioned being a guardian, and Hydra looked thoughtful. I'd also like to become a guardian. Any tips for me, there? She asked with a grin. Hydra always enjoyed learning; though she was intelligent and adept, and a brilliant fighter well above the skills expected and required of any her age, she never would turn down the chance to learn. His interest in becoming a coach was one she did not share—Hydra would likely not be the best of teachers, impatient as she could be. 

Rannoch's description of the man was one she listened to with open ears. What did you tell him? she asked, squinting. Why in the world would he just try and kill you? It made no sense to her at all. The Glen belonged to no one, but if any had a claim to it it would Moonspear. When he went on to speak on his scent, Hydra nodded. Given she had been even closer to the man, given she had tasted his blood, she said: rot, and feathers. It was putrid, and a strange mix. Have you ever smelled it before? Beyond the two of them? Or, probably, they were the same, hell if she knew. It didn't make sense, no matter what angle they looked at it from.