Moonspear diamond eyes

Hydra did not feel at all bad for making the other squirm. It was her (perhaps cruel) brand of humor, but she did not mean any harm by it. Willoughby was pack; though she was not a fighter, she would find her place among them. Speedy had. As Willoughby spoke of the bear, Hydra listened, intrigued. Bears and wolves had an interesting relationship; more often than not, bears displaced wolves. Stole kills, caused them to move—they were strong, and not worth the fight. But Moonspear had had to fight; had to save Galaxy, once. 

She remembered her jaws closing around the bears throat. It was with fondness she remembered delivering the killing blow. 

Good, she responds, nodding, glad to know that the bear was not heading this way. Beyond her own (negative) experiences with bears, her father had experienced worse. Rannoch and Cypress had lost their parents at the paws of a bear. Her opinion of them was based off of experience; she was glad to see Willoughby not at all hurt. Spring is upon us, and if there is to be new life, it is best that there are none of their sort nearby, she breathes. If there were kind bears out there, Hydra had yet to meet them. 

Hunting, though—that, Hydra enjoyed. Her tail waved on that note, and she posed another question. What did you hunt? Hunting alone could be difficult, but not impossible... though perhaps she did not mean animals, either.