Moonspear eyes closed, ice cold

Hydra's ear flicked, hearing her mother and realizing what Korei must think. But she wouldn't correct that thought, not now. If Korei thought her family cold-blooded killers, then she did not know a single one of them. They did not kill or hurt others for fun; it was not a game to them. And if Korei could corrupt their vision and their name in such a way? How could she even think that Korei cared for them at all? All of her life, Hydra had cared for Korei in her own way. She protected, she assisted, she defended—granted, she also bullied, but her love had always been tough love. She bullied Alya and Lyra just the same when it suited her; they could handle it, though, and knew how best to appease her to avoid too much frequency. 

All I have ever done is protect who and what I love. I will never stop that, Hydra stated. Then,  the beta turned away from Korei, and began to walk in the opposite direction. She would not defend herself to Korei Julia, who was not blind or deaf or dumb—she was a grown woman, behaving like a baby, putting the attention on her damned self and whining when their sister was dead. 

The rational part of her grasped that Korei Julia was grieving, and this was how she handled it. But Hydra was grieving, too, and she could stand Korei's selfishness no longer.