Moonspear do not be afraid to destroy

Hydra listened to him, interested. He was not yet at peace here; this she could understand, him being new. But Moonspear was filled with good folk. Though he may never be safe from she and her sisters antics, even when he slept, he would not live in terror here; it was a good home, with good wolves. She was entirely bias in her opinion, but she could not understand any who would not come to love it. Those that did not forced themselves on the outside, and did not remain. It was their own fault. 

What was it like? she asked, and after a beat, elaborated: being a lone wolf, I mean. She could not imagine he was a lone wolf by choice; he was young, young enough to require the assistance of pack at least but old enough to have survived a short period of time alone. Hydra did not think that the life of a lone wolf was a good one. Even if he said as much to her, she could not imagine it to be so—but this life, with her pack, was one she had always known and always loved.