Ghost Lion Crag In the hall of the mountain king.

The words of Wraen replayed within her mind, and Hydra had decided she would check in on her old friend, while simultaneously inspecting the territories beyond for returning prey. Just the other day there had been a doe, and Hydra was sated; it seemed as though things might look up yet. And if the Glen harbored within it one dying thing, perhaps so too did another territory nearby. Hydra did not intend to be gone long either, but of all the faces she had seen returning in days of late, none of them belonged to any one she had desired to see. Towhee, namely. 

The two mountaineers scaled the Crag, drifting beneath the short and stout trees and following their nose. They moved in the direction Wraen had once indicated. Hydra was given pause only when she heard the warbled voice of the very she-wolf she had also hoped to visit along the way. Glad for hearing her here, as it meant she could return home all the sooner, Hydra moved in the direction she had heard the voice. 

Soon the Redhawk girl was in her line-of-sight, and Hydra's tail waved as she adjusted her course of arrival to be one Towhee, herself, could see; an amicable sway of her tail was consistent as she moved, though Hydra paused mid-approach to ensure that Towhee remembered her, and recognize her as a nonhostile entity... at least, toward her.