Firefly Glen the truth and my lies are now falling like the rain

An ear backturned as Antares arrived beside them, but Hydra did not look to him. He surely tracked them here, and had done so well enough to find them—not that they had been discreet this day. In the Glen, there was no need to be; it was theirs. Matter of factly, Hydra hummed to his consideration: grandfather thought these were pretty little creatures, but he would not possess the likes of them if he could take form of anything. No; his kingdom now is among the stars, she humored. Hydra took care not to bring any sort of faith within her children; gods, nor spirits, nor stars could save them. The only thing watching over them when they were alone was themselves—their only savior their own tooth and claw. Hydra had even taken care to acknowledge she could not be there for everything—but when she was, she would not fail them. She would bring whatever cared to harm them to a swift, albeit terrible, end. Still—if ever there was a reason for them to be here, it would be for his grandchildren. And, she whispered playfully, looking between the two, his favorite. 

Her, of course. 

Hydra's attention was then for the foul-mouthed girl alone; whoever had raised her had done a poor job of it, it appeared. Unamused and affronted, her tail lashed behind her as her eyes coldly assessed every inch of the tawny thing. Her appraisal was open and not at all without judgment until her eyes snapped back to the face of the the youth. The matriarch was displeased, though her features did not indicate this—only the hard look in her eyes foretold what was to come. 

Her disregard of the girl was blatant, despite the fact that her eyes were upon her. And this, my sons, is why it is always wise to pay attention to what is going on around you. Were she to have met crueler wolves, she could have been killed. Easily, she drawled with a lash of her plume. As her fortune would have it she will learn only learn a lesson today, which her own mother did not take care to teach her, as I am feeling quite forgiving, here Hydra took a step toward the youth, no sign of her forgiving nature to be seen upon her countenance. The only kindness Hydra had to spare was for her own children, not those of others that were raised the wrong way.

It could not be helped; since the mother and father had not done so herself, Hydra would have to do the work herself. So now, she did speak to the girl. Take care not to be so rude; take better care to not be so dim. There are those out there that would kill you for less. Next time, mind your manners, she informed and advised dryly, before she hummed to her sons: Escort her from our Glen, she decided was consequence enough, encouraging Spica to move—and the way in which she would see her sons get this done if she was not so inclined to simply listen—with a quick snap of her fangs that were not aimed to strike or hit the girl (really, Hydra had no interest in hurting her given her age... but how else would she learn?). They struck empty air with a resounding clack. Neither did she expect her children to hurt her. Hydra simply wanted them to get her out of here; her shrill voice, her poor excuse for her way, it was all a disruption to her teachings she had not desired at all. Spica had only herself to blame. 

hahaha of course!!! the fireflies that light up hibernate in z winter <3