Firefly Glen vive, vivio, vivira

Three moons. Hydra's features warped into a scowl as she spoke, only a coward would harm a child, for one three moons could hardly defend themselves well enough to avoid such injuries... or was it a fair fight? Perhaps the other was as torn apart by the petite woman as she was by them. Hydra could not be certain, and yet by the looks of her alone Hydra felt the beginning of doubt to stir within her chest—

But it was pushed away. Even the soft could be ruthless, when the moment presented itself. As the woman looked up to her, Hydra observed the ruined eye. 

Hydra took a tentative step forward, as one might toward prey that might spook and flee any second. The Ostrega did not think of her as her own prey, but it was easy to see this stranger, Aurëwen, had endured more than her fair share of trials. She looked near-beaten by them. Hydra felt no sympathy, nor pity, in her heart—no one liked to be pitied, and Hydra had not the capabiltiy to be truly compassionate. 

Still. 

Aurëwen, she repeated, I am Hydra, Queen of Moonspear. Rise, if you wish. It is clear you have endured much that you have not deserved, she need not even hear the story of this strangers life to see that much. It was in the way she held herself, the way her functioning eye dispassionately considered Hydra; the way she wilted before spoken to. Have you fought back? Or have you simply taken the blows life has given you as they have come? She inquired. Part of her desired to understand. Not Aurëwen, per se, but all those that may be like her. Was it by choice? Was it luck? Was it fate? 

She seemed different, by the look of her. Not as soft and as without guile as the sister she had disowned, Korei Julia. No, Aurëwen was not witless. What was she, then?