Firefly Glen Monster in Disguise

The aversion of her gaze mollified her, to a degree. But it certainly did not answer the questions that sprung to mind. She knew this wolf by scent, and so although Hydra had already recognized who it was the memory of how they had first crossed paths came to the forefront of her mind. Hydra had not trusted her then, and thought of her own wisdom. One ear backturned to listen for Bronco and Keres, and she knew they were both listening. 

Nyra, she remembered aloud, ears pressing forward ever so slightly as her gaze sharpened as she continued, the last of the Direfangs, if I remember rightly—but not for long, if you are dishonest with me. You will be another to die for bloodshed, and... that might not be necessary. Not if you speak true. I am a fair woman, when wrongs are made right, the matriarch drawled, not in an unkind, hateful way (though she thought lowly of spies)... simply matter-of-fact, before adding, who do you serve, and are they your true master? What do you seek to gain here? Hydra had once given the girl a chance, but what had she done that for? She would not be fooled again, now that she was aware of who this woman really was. But who was it that had her under their employment...? And what was their interest in Neverwinter? While the pack was no true ally of hers, they were certainly close enough to home for any wolf that came sniffing with dark intentions to be a wolf that warranted looking at. 

When it came to Nyra, Hydra was not thinking of the Saints—but an older enemy than that. She waited to hear the name she had been seeking for months now, without ever looking too hard to hear it. Hydra had always imagined it might come to her... and here, she felt, it might stand. Muddy, and familiar.