Kintla Flatlands look and see her eyes, they glow

She blinked at him as he mentioned following the trail of the bear. Why? Did he have a deathwish? Hydra hadn't the wherewithal to get into that, but she did not hide her judgment that she thought that was very dumb of him. But she hadn't the ability to ask him to not get himself killed anymore. He could do as he pleased, even if that was his ultimate goal, though this thought she did not like at all. He mentioned a name she did not recognize... Phoenix. Perhaps that was to hide from the Blackfeather wolves. But in case there were any ulterior motives, Hydra, conversationally, divulged: Oh—I had been told her name was Ceara, by a friend of hers that went looking, a thoughtful frown came upon her countenance then, before she said the thoughts that came to mind moments ago: It may be best to keep that information to yourself, unless you have need of it. She likely does not want to put you and yours into any trouble if Blackfeather finds where their captive fled to, and though it was fine to give others the benefit of the doubt, from time to time, Hydra had learned better. Still, having never met her, she could not offer her personal opinion on the woman who rose from her tragedy; Hydra only hoped she was willing to bite back. 

What Hydra did know was that she was a Redhawk, and her own track record with the pack had proven more often than not they were a decent lot. Hydra could only hope that Fire was among that number, and she was glad it was not up to her to find that out. 

She read each thought that passed within his mind in every line that was written upon his face, and erased, and rewritten, only to be crumpled up, discarded. Hydra could interpret every line, and now and then Hydra would press her ears forward when she thought he might say something she did not wish to hear as she understood it. With bated breath, Hydra waited, ears flattening atop her crown as she observed the shift, and when the epiphany struck both his tongue and his mind, the Ostrega was not certain she had heard him true—

He said of himself all of the things she ever said of him, but not with contempt or ire or sarcasm... he said it in earnest. He recognized the truth of all she had ever said, at last, and as each word came to pass, she seemed to soften, little by little. Even if she had not said the words to him, she was certain for him to bring mention of it at all meant that he did believe her—nevermind the fact that Sunspire had made an enemy of Moonspear, who had desired that, but for her?—and it lifted a significant weight off of her lungs that came out in a whoosh as he spoke on.

Enemies no more, then. He willfully erased the scribblings of a frightened girl. He changed her wrongdoings. She would not forget that he once willingly followed the wretch, even if it were due to Rannoch as he did the very same, but at long last, he was stepping in the right direction. And Liffey? Well, life had dealt her a worse card than Terance. But her actions? They were irredeemable. 

The thoughts of Hydra Ostrega came and went, her blue eyes tracing the length of Terance, noting his new scar; her tongue was absent of words for once, rendered speechless from all that he had finally said, up until at last she found words. A breathless, yet somehow firm and dignified Thank you, came first (for saying all of that. For removing the stain erroneously placed upon my name, my families name, for the head of that bastard if you should be the one to slay him...) and she fell quiet for another beat, considering all that had been said, when he spoke again. 

Her eyes looked to his own, as he asked her for forgiveness. Hydra, too, had her reservations. He, more than any other, had dealt her the greatest blow of her lifetime. Life, in turn, attacked Terance tenfold. She knew it would not get any better if he spoke these words in vain, and she found herself not saying no, not yet, not now, but: you will never hurt me in such a way again? For his biggest crime of all had been to follow the lead of Rannoch's wife, even if it was for Rannoch, and to condone being made a makeshift enemy at all, for reasons he knew could not exist in knowing her, knowing her sisters. They loved their pack, would do anything for their friends and fellows—Rannoch and Terance both had bore witness to it. Terance had Hydra to thank for Rannoch at all, as she thought of it—

She could not forgive him if he thought he might turn his cheek to her as he had that day. He had been the sole reason she had built her wall of stone, and though it was well made, one might see light breaking through the pieces that fell into disrepair; a consequence, surely, of his words. Hydra did not know if she ought to trust this, trust him... but forgiveness did not necessarily mean that, did it? It meant that she would permit him to work towards rebuilding such a thing... 

And so she listened.