Moonspear bad blood

Though the girls were more often together than they were not, they were each becoming better at their own individual skills as well. Hydra was a fighter, Lyra a healer, and Alya a scout... something she wanted to work on more, outside of here. But again that thought fled her mind as she caught sight of her father, and she bounded toward him and attempted to nip his shoulder, rough but fond. 

Hydra had not gotten to talk too much to her father about what happened to Rannoch, given the fact that she felt it essential she report to the Vale firstly. After all, Rannoch had been their leader, and what disorder might a pack experience without one...? I wanted to talk to you about the day we found Rannoch some more, she opened, finding her place beside him now. The wolf that we fought against smelled like dead bodies and birds, a scent that might be too familiar to him given his recent run-in with his (unknown to her) other daughter, and he was big. He was easy to take down between the three of us, and I'd like to think I could have beaten him alone, too... but... She wasn't a large female, by any means. Neither was she small and petite. She was, in stature, average—the perfect mix of speed and strength, though against larger opponents she knew to wear them out first. He wasn't normal. He should have ran but he kept fighting. It was almost like he didn't care if he lived or died, so long as he took someone else with him, which he hadn't, but only because, perhaps, he was outnumbered. But that kind of reckless fighting... this time she was sure she did the right thing, but what about next time? If she were alone?