Greatwater Lake Knock em down, strip em back boys

She had informed her father she would be looking for Gannet—she knew, beyond any benefit of a doubt, of all the wolves that would not leave Moonspear, it would be him. Amazing how the circumstances had lead her to believe such, to believe in him, but there it was. She would return—but she needed to find some sort of sign. Something. 

But there never was. 

Still Hydra did not give up. He was not a deserter. He couldn't be. Hydra was diligent in her tracking, slow—it was this pace that allowed her to come upon him when she did. And she did not recognize him; if it were not for the rise and fall, she would have let the thing have been perceived to be a rock. But in seeing its movement, Hydra slowly darted in its direction. 

A cursory sniff told her all she needed to know. A heavy exhale of relief was given as she breathed his name. Gannet, but he was unresponsive. Hydra moved into the lake, ankle-deep, and thought of how best to rouse him. She loosed several loud barks, taking some steps backward so as to not cause him too much alarm. Hydra hadn't the faintest idea of what would and would not work here, but he was alive—something had to give.