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

These three wolves settled like rocks in the pit of Alya's stomach. Beasts, fools, and children — these were their choices. The world suddenly seemed like a very big place, and their mountain very small indeed. She missed the tenacity of their father, and their mother's quiet wisdom, and standing in Dash's protective shadow, and the warm quiet of the den where they were whelped. The winter yawned before them, endless and cold and unknown. Life itself suddenly seemed very long and full of twists and turns; Alya wondered what happened when a wolf died, and whether it was just as cold where her parents now resided. Were they just as uncertain there?

"I wish the world could just be the three of us, and the wolves that we choose," she said quietly, and then immediately felt silly for expressing such a sentiment. Still, she soldiered on: "I used to love to meet new wolves when we were little. But now it seems the world is our enemy, and even those we align ourselves with are creatures that... that I must fear. And I must. One of us must, Hydra. You are Moonspear's queen for many reasons, but first and foremost for the love we bear you."

Her chest felt tight and heavy. The words she'd spoken were harsh in the air between them, and Alya was ashamed to have spoken them.

"I miss Daddy," she excused, the words coming out rather choked.