Firefly Glen an honest man

UGH. UR WRITING. R U KIDDING ME.

 

Hydra listened to his words, and saw wisdom in them. He did not know her, not enough to trust her entirely, but she would not reveal his name to any; her purpose was similar to his own. Hydra was nothing if not careful herself, understanding well the risks. When he looked away, Hydra considered for a moment before speaking. 

Names do not matter. Not much, she hummed. They are given, they are taken; sometimes they are forgotten. Some wolves have but one; others have many, she shrugged, but thought even then of their enemy. Blackhead, witch, hag, Caiaphas; a rose called by any other name would smell just as sweet, and she likely just as salty. It was as though the coast itself had bore her, Hydra's keen nose detecting the unremovable hint of that... just as if any were to catch a good whiff of her, cold and sterile stone might be the one thing that she ever could not remove. She was a woman cut from stone, just as Caiaphas may have been a woman molded by the sand (though that, she was far from certain of). 

Looking back to him now, Hydra licked her chops. You remind me of a story my father once told, long ago. These stories, they speak of creatures that are not real—but I think every story has truth in it. The story was of a wolf named Theseus; he needed to go through some labryinth before he fought some strange creature, like a bull or bison but far stronger than both, that demanded the sacrifice of children, Hydra grinned as she considered, stories like that are born of journeys like ours, made far grander than they are. Why that was, she was not sure; Hydra much preferred the simple truth, and would be compelled to listen to how any wolf was slain with tooth and claw. Looking to him, and considering, Hydra she decided: so, I will call you Theseus. He looked like a Theseus might look, she supposed. Did Caiaphas look like a great, big bullbeast? 

In any event, Hydra continued to sniff around, still considering things. And then, she looked back to Theseus. It was, thus far, in that way alone she was reminded of the story. Your family will never leave her crossfire, Hydra drawled, for even now, she has sought to implicate you and yours in the murder of the mercenary. And I can tell you this, Theseus; the lone wolf may die, but the pack survives. Your hooded hag is not alone. I understand well enough the risk my own intervention might cause, but I think this is a cause all can stand behind and fight for. Hydra's mind had yet to stop its work. 

War. War for the future of this Wilds. Her children, and others children, safe; Caiaphas and those that ran with her, hunted by all. 

But then there was the matter of food, and the weakened state of many who were not getting near enough. The timing of it all was terrible, she thought, looking away for a moment as she continued to investigate, think. Easthollow had aided her sister in her time of need as they could; Theseus, though no longer with them, surely would be if he did not fear endangering them. Hydra looked over her shoulder to him as she moved, pausing as she turned sidelong to regard him entirely. 

Join my ranks. Fight with us all, she invited; he did so already, in any case. He need not starve in the meantime, and he was a capable, strong male. None could hope to succeed on an empty stomach. They would keep one another safe, and the strength between them went beyond just their numbers.