Firefly Glen Follow the Signs

Fur like the beach... wet and dry. Poetic. Green eyes. She could sense the mans lethargy, but did not want him resting here to bring the cannibal within her Wilderness. He had given her information, however. Not too close to Moonspear where they stood at present, Hydra exhaled a heavy breath as she considered. The matriarch had her own search to resume, for her own band of merry murderers. Now there was a cannibal, too. 

She grimaced. 

Her best bet at finding said cannibal was letting him rest here. If he was being followed, that was. Supposing that he was, Hydra gestured to a brambled bush behind her, and drawled, get some rest there. If he comes for you while you do, I will be here. I do detest cannibals, well, at least unless her survival depended on it... which history had shown. The matriarch thought to herself, too, that I am not beneath becoming one if only to give them the burial they deserve. And then, they would become fertilizer to feed the earth and help it grow. Fitting, and also poetic. A corpse could feed the earth by itself though, and since prey had returned it would not be a waste at least.