Moonspear count your fears if you let me

If the teasing was ever brought up to Hydra, she'd ask him to take a good hard look at the twins with one another. They were sour, but then they were sweet. Teasing, shmeezing—Hydra had loosed a whole string of saliva upon Lyra's nose (today's day and age of waterboarding), had been tackled down a mountain by Alya, and had roughhoused the hell out of her siblings. That was bonding. Terance was no stranger to it, either—she teased the hell out of him all the time. And if she had never voiced her discomfort to Hydra, or her sisters, what did she expect to change? 

Right, so, I'm telling you I understand that, she point-blank expressed, but you're going with someone who is using me and my sisters as an excuse to go. Who never spoke to me a day in her life about her discomfort and one fine day decided, these girls are monsters. I don't trust them. Rannoch looked at me that way, Terance. He spoke to me that way, her voice caught in her throat. 

She breathed in deep and waited for his response with bated breath. How could she trust him, if he actively made that choice? To walk with two wolves who could do that to her out of the blue?