Moonspear you are to me like a very, very wild thing

Hydra leaned in to her sister, and repaid her in kind; Alya was more unkempt than usual, and Hydra would, with great care, ensure that she was restored to her former glory. Hydra also knew her softness extended to Nikai; but she had worked toward making sure he was stronger for Alya. They were the sort of women that could save themselves, and their children, but it was always a comfort to know others could help when needed. 

When speaking of Lyra, Hydra smiled through her teeth while working through a fussy knot with the same fangs. She paused for a moment to laugh, this is true, thinking the very same as Alya. Lyra was a woman filled with hate, and for every ounce of it Hydra loved her more. They were a balance, the three of them; a savage variety. One, really, was no better than the other. Not in her mind. And together? Together they simply could not be surpassed.

 The abandonmnet of her children was icing on the cake, in any case; loyalty to family was something at present Hydra lived and breathed. For them, what would she not do? Hydra continued to groom her sister then, withdrawing as she thoughtfully added: oh, we have them—her children. Their father had come to join us, but was killed shortly after... by one of those murderers. It seems they hurt one of the children first, and it sounds as though they may seek the children now... In thinking of future generations, it did not, now, seem wise to keep them. But they were past that; she sighed. I did not expect him to die; I expected him to hunt for the pack and protect, she shook her head at that. That was what he had said he would do—

Instead, he went and died. No help at all, there. And they were left with two dependent bodies. 

She continued to groom her sister in contemplative silence, and she had to laugh again at her other sisters words. My only true suffering was my longing for you to be here for the excitement, she quipped, well-meaning, and returned now that comforting lick to know that she was happy for her return. Her suffering had ended with Alya's arrival, and truly, she had not suffered at all beyond minor, miniscule frustrations. 

In any case, Hydra went on to say, her son—it seems as if he wants nothing to do with the mother. There was a skirmish over the moose I had mentioned that he remained, and he wanted her to have none of it. Smart boy, she said with a wan smile. If he could hold a grudge as well as the Ostrega's could, he might be better company than anticipated. And her daughter... seems like a fighter, had the spirit of one... and the genetics. But she detested the part of them that might hold their mother within them; she hoped they had already learned from their dislike of her the parts of her they knew they ought to work towards removing. 

It gave the children good company, in any case. And she had educated her children all about wordless abandonment [or otherwise], and the wrongness of it, promptly upon their admittance. With a sigh, Hydra paused once more in her grooming: we must make sure they do not end up like their parents, Dead, or daft—little experiments. Could it be done?