Moonspear oathkeeper

Hydra nodded as the woman began, giving her consent and reclining on her haunches simply to supervise. Though she was pleased with her cubs responses, there as ever was little indication of this. But she was pleased to know how well her cubs listened, each of them. Curtly, Hydra intervened as her son spoke a word she considered lazy: Need to, Atlas, not gotta, she corrected, though in such a way that did not sound undermining. He was growing, learning in all ways—they all were. He was not the only child she corrected. And her eyes were bright in the only way she would reveal to them her pleasure with their developing intellect before they became veiled once more. 

This lesson was not for the matters of heart but for the matters of battle; she wondered what the teacher herself might learn in turn beyond her teachings. Hydra listened, curious herself, gaze shifting back to Aurewen.