Barrow Fields lift me up, you take me higher

Hydra was fascinated as he explained to her that it took a group to take one down, and not only this but they might retaliate during the hunt with a bite. The concept of retaliation was not at all foreign to her, as the prey Hydra and her own family hunted lashed out with their legs when they could, or anything else at their disposal... but none had attempted to bite her in their bid to get away with their life. Seals did not have legs though, she recalled. If speed did not work for them, it made sense that they might try to escape however else they could. That they could bite so hard was also a surprise—best to avoid them on her lonesome altogether, she decided. She had no desire to potentially break her leg. 

It was disappointing, though. Well, I guess that means I may never know for myself what a seal tastes like, she said with a sigh. All their talk of them had her curious about it, and no amount of hearing what it was they tasted like from another would sate her inexplicable craving for something she did not know herself. Ingram had said his favorite part of the coast was the food, and Hydra could not help but wonder just how good the food might be. Hydra had assumed seawolves to only enjoy fish, though there was no way that the dark stranger before her survived solely off of that. Not with hips like those, she thought. He had a strong looking frame, sound and healthy, which she appreciated openly for a moment before she looked idly beyond him as the wind stirred.