Moonspear girl of the year

Hydra watched her mother, her eyes not moving again toward her father as he quit the scene. Heat, she had said. Hydra knew of what could come from this, but did not seem to fear it. Rather, she considered the idea: children. Who would be worthy of this with her? Dirge, her mind first came to—but she was hesitant even there. Would his eyes be only ever for her? Her eyes fell back to her mother. 

It has, she answered when asked, and she shifted her weight. For now, her desire to fight was outweighed by her confusion. She was inexperienced in this matter, and though she was not frightened of this (as ever, she met such a thing head on) Hydra had questions. Why... now? It did not happen last year, she breathed, left ear twitching at the sound of rubble falling. The wind had caused scree to bounce ever downward, but there were no other wolves in sight (or earshot). And then: How did you know father was the right one, to have your children, to be your mate? Again her mind drifted toward Dirge; her uncertainty lingered, but perhaps her mother could put it to rest. Or perhaps Hydra would need to search on, to find someone who would have eyes for her, and only her. Whether she liked it or not, Alya's words haunted her—now more than ever. Also not one to waste time, Hydra breathed: I would like them, I think. My own. But only with someone who I knew was right for it. 

More children to cultivate into young warriors, she thought eagerly. Revui could help; Arcturus, too. Lyra, naturally, would not leave her side, and she imagined Charon and Amekaze teaching them lessons as they taught her. Hydra had no plans to go anywhere else—but then, she did not know what was to come. Would she be allowed it?