The Heartwood man was born to sin, set him free and he will be a sinner

It is a game of cat and mouse between them, and it is terribly clear who is who. Hydra has all of the patience of a saint, and beneath her was a terrible devil who let his mind wander at the wrong time. She noted it immediately, and oh, did she seize it! Hydra was over him in a flash; he need not look to know, to feel. Her practiced fangs raked into him time and time again as she sought to rip the flesh from him as he had done to the Frostfur that day. The ruthless energy she exerts is monstrous, and she gives no quarter; but, once finished, Hydra ceases and desists.

Blood dripping from her jowls, she removes herself from his person. She does not look unlike him moments ago, but now it is she that has finished with her prey. Hydra shakes out her furs and stares at him, mutely satisfied for a time. After some time does pass, she decrees, our score is settled, so long as you remain far away from Moonspear and harm none of my own. She had bigger fish to fry, now. A runaway boy, to start with. He had been a killer. Unintentional though it was, Hydra's way this day was a life for a life... and a wound for a wound. The one Vaati bore was near identical to Rannoch's. Hydra licked her chops, her muzzle smarting from Vaati's own teeth's mark. Surely she was bruised elsewhere, but his own claws had been blunt enough to prevent terrible bloodshed. She had his loamy forest floor to thank for this. 

One wrong move from the Caldera's own dictated her next words. A wolf from the Caldera killed my sister. Did you have anything to do with this? She asked next, knowing this would catch him off-guard, and knowing this was the best way to get the truth. His exhaustion from the fight would not do him any favors—her eyes were hard as she read his features. If he did, then one of the cubs of his pack would pay in kind—that was the way of things. And that runaway wolf would be killed, too—collateral damage needed to be disposed of.