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

Hydra turned to regard Alya as she spoke. Her ears pricked, and she found she felt much the same; the world would be a better place for it. No beasts, no insufferable fools, no children they themselves did not desire. The Ostrega found herself drifting, then, momentarily, to the same places Alya had gone. She looked away then, but listened still to her twin as she spoke.

Her gaze turned toward Alya once she finished, and Hydra inched closer. Though she did not speak for a moment, she leaned her head against her sister and exhaled a heavy breath. Of course I am afraid, the exhalation conveyed and her sister would know. How could she not have felt so? Equipped and trained though she was to do as she was, Hydra still knew fear. But she would never let it rule her. It was a present reminder to tread carefully... and she was a very careful woman. 

Still. 

She withdrew, standing alongside Alya now as she responded. I did too, Hydra expressed, though this her sister knew. Hydra had gone out to befriend many, after all... once. Her features seemed to darken some as she looked away, though she could hardly hide the brewing storm she felt within. 

Hydra considered what she said, quiet. She realized, then, that she might have many enemies for her ways, and would surely earn many more for her brutal methods. But then, so long as her family survived and thrived she truly did not care. The world has become a crueler place than usual as of late, sister, with the prey leaving as they had. To have no fear at all in these times would be unwise, she hummed, far more collected than Alya but her voice carrying no less feeling, but to be ruled by it would leave us hungry. Those that would steal from your mouth, my childrens mouths, will ever be my enemy these days. We have been here for years; they, no time at all. Damn the rest, she rumbled with the tenacity of their father they both, suddenly, yearned for, you have all always been the wolves I choose. First, always. Her and Lyra, in particular. Why could the fool not simply go elsewhere? 

As for their father, Hydra quieted then. What would he say to her, were he here? Their mother? She could imagine her enigmatic mother, approving albeit skeptical of the Nightwalkers, too (which she carried with her, maintaining her own healthy amount). Her mother and father both would likely consider Mal to be a little shit, and want him out, and the thought, for some reason, was so absurdly amusing to her that she laughed, suddenly; one arrogant man was enough for the Wilderness... but now, the empty space left behind by him left a terrible emptiness in her that she replaced with cruelty rather than kindness, feeling such a thing would serve her better... 

But her family would not be met with it. Me, too, she admitted, voice soft.