Moonspear do not be afraid to destroy

Had Hydra known he thought that it was he she thought of as she emitted such a noise, she would be swift to correct him. It was solely due to her preference of him that she could think beyond his own arrogance, though she knew it existed—no, in that moment, she thought of his former packmate (and her own, though she did not know it). As Drogon spoke of their ranks she had to hold back from rolling her eyes. Dark Master, she repeats, her emphasis enough of an eye-roll as it so happened anyway, before continuing, What sort of ranks are those? She knew of their classic hierarchy; Speaker, Priestess... what the hell even was that? Your Nyx... Rannoch knew of her. Speaker—does that mean, ambassador? It all made little sense to her, but Speaker at least sounded translatable. She had no clue if she was off base, on it, or even close to it. That network of tunnels, bit—that sounded important. It is funny they want to be undetected when others are in their territory, she said with a snicker, is the element of surprise all that they have on their side, then? She was genuinely curious of that. Hydra wanted her enemies to know she was coming. And no doubt they would. Even from afar, they might sense it; the stranger that had attacked her friend would feel it in his bones. 

Over time, her anger with that boy was building. The wound she had left was enough for now; he had not killed her friend, though he had been close. But if he did show his face again around these parts, Hydra would not rest until he died. He must know that, if he did not lurk... but she would continue to scout to ensure that he did not. 

As far as Drogon's words, she nods to him. Good. There is nothing to fear. But it would be unwise not to be careful, nonetheless, she said, thoughtful, remembering how the wolf reveled in the pain. He seemed at first to have an utter disregard for his own life. He attacked as though nothing mattered but for the one kill, she looked upward. he did not succeed, he hadn't the skill, and in the end his life did matter—though I wonder if it was because he gained nothing himself, were Hydra any less sane, she might understand perfectly the motive, the aim, the reasoning. She was a savage hellhound herself, after all. But she always did have a true and legitimate reason, a rational one, when it came to killing. It was all to protect and serve. 

And she felt the culling of that wolf would do just that. 

I will kill him if I see him again, Hydra looked to Drogon, now. I detest the existence of a man such as him. Her muzzle wrinkled. This was what happened when she was crossed, even inadvertantly. He had laid his fangs across her friend, and Hydra could not abide by this.