Moonspear she was a lost and found item

It seemed the other shared her recognition; this pleased the proud woman a great deal. Oh, yes, she could be humble—but to be remembered meant much to Hydra, who had not forgotten the jade-eyed Desdemona herself. She could not help but feel fortunate for the woman arriving without the scent of where she had once run upon her—what a terrible loss, for those that had once had her loyalty. A shame for them. Perhaps fortune might smile upon Hydra further; perhaps Desdemona had come to pledge herself to Moonspear, now. 

Life was truly an amusing thing; for all of its downward dips and dizzying spirals, when things went favorably they did so in astounding ways. As the other bowed, Hydra's reception of the bat-earred she-wolf became all the more positive; Desdemona did herself plenty of favors in stroking the matriarch's ego, unwitting though it was. Hydra stood a little prouder for it, and her teeth, for once, were not revealed upon the border to cause any harm. 

Perhaps it was the arrival of Spring that had Hydra feel so pleased by this all; she was no believer in things like destiny, or fate (not entirely, anyway)... and yet! 

Unworthy? She pressed, wondering what she might mean by it; Desdemona, to Hydra, by all accounts was a worthy woman. Loyal, strong, and she aided her own; she could only imagine what the she-wolf might ask of her, but highly doubted Desdemona could ask anything of her that Hydra would deem that way (her own preference for the sable she-wolf colouring her perspective, naturally).