Moonspear toredig

Hydra's disappointment in her packmate rest in the back of her mind. More important to her was that he learn from his error and not act on his lonesome again. He might have wished for his own death, but the one thing that she was thankful for was that he lived and breathed still. The odds had not been in his favor during his excursion, and yet he was here among them in one piece—physically. 

Mentally, Hydra noticed his slight distance. For a time she was content to give him his personal space, but the Beta was not the most empathetic or emotionally intelligent woman there ever was. He was healthy, he was recovered—they could prepare for their next onslaught. Before Winter, Hydra had it in her mind to do something. Just what, she was not sure. 

That bastard was alive. She wanted to remind him that he lived and breathedl, from this point on, of her own volition. Killing him immediately seemed the safest thing to do, given the damage he had caused others—but his effect on Hydra had lasted as long as this. Galaxy was dead. Dead for good. She, unlike him, would never come back—

Hydra would bring him to the brink again, and again, and again, she decided. Until she was tired of it. Until he understood the full gravity his silence had cost her. Hydra was not good at displaying how she felt to those she cared for, but her revenge painted out her grieving process and just how much she did feel. 

So, she had to do something. When, where, how... she supposed she would get to that. 

First, though? She sought the golden male, wondering how he fared today.