Altar of Twilight Unleashed

Tzila elected to join her, and once the other was near enough Hydra moved to sniff at her in none too idle a fashion. It was the way of the wolf, this—a brief exchange of information that shared much between two canines. Tzila was indeed who she imagined, first and foremost, but also Hydra came to note that she no longer carried the macabre scent that had made her Nightwalker once. This was of great interest to the Ostrega, who had not imagined that the change in leadership would sit well with all of that variety. But to Hydra's knowledge, the young Warlord's claim was as of yet uncontested.

In any case, clearly, it had not sat well with Tzila. Could Hydra blame her? No. Not at all. As Hydra regarded her and her physical state, she found the notion of such impossible to even believe. Some things did not suit others. Hydra would not state the obvious, but she would also not assume the nature of Tzila's departure. Perhaps she was wrong in each and every one of her presumptions. Perhaps Tzila had made a bid for the throne there and failed. There was only one way to find out. 

Hydra navigated the territory now one slow step at a time. While some of her attentions reserved for Tzila—revealed by the way, now and then, one ear would cup toward her—the rest remained divided by her surroundings and her task at hand. Hydra now sniffed at the tracks of a wolf that had recently passed through, though the scent did not match any in her inventory that meant enemy. So, when was it you came to leave the Nightwalkers? she inquired lowly, lifting her head from the earth to peer at Tzila for a moment. She fell silent then, both silent and willing to hear all of her story. Tzila herself had made it evident it was not because she wished for an enemy in Moonspear, at least.