Moonspear so if you meet me, have some courtesy

Hydra listened to Praimfaya with interest, and was glad to hear that Natjavkru was something that worked. In speaking with her mother, who sometimes lapsed into her own mother-tongue to teach Hydra lessons when she was very young, she understood some words could be blended in different ways that the English dialect did not. 

She listened on, and heard of how being Heda was birthright. 

Things suddenly seemed to blend; Hydra recalled a pack, once called Drageda. They too had a commander. She thought of the mercenary that had passed, his children—they must, once, have followed that same commander. Praimfaya had come from that legacy. Hydra did not know she had met her—Antumbra had never given her her name, nor did Hydra think that the previous commander had been a woman as Wildfire, also a woman, was their mate—and the matriarch deduced that this first commander was dead. Drageda with them, it seemed. 

That it was birthright was interesting to Hydra; she supposed it was the same for her, in a way, but she had earned it overtime among the rest of her siblings. She was not the sole cub born—there had been several options, so to speak. It was Hydra, though, who was born for the task. Raised and reared for it, too. The mention of spirits was not missed; if there was one fault in their way, Hydra thought it might be the existence of religion. She could not see how faith could keep one strong when life revealed time and time again that there was little use of it. What would their faith to something they could not see do for them? Keep them fed? Safe? 

But Hydra withheld that judgment. It was important to Praimfaya, and so she would not wag her tongue against it. The girl was young; life would teach her that much without Hydra's instruction. Her features are impassive as Praimfaya mentions Linkoln, her spirit guide—there is nothing to read there, then. 

So, the spirits had selected Praimfaya. And the Roangeda wolves accepted such. An interesting faith, but the fault in it was that a child was easy to kill. Could another get jealous and simply end the life of them before they reached adulthood? What then? All questions for another time; she did not want to bombard Praimfaya, though she enjoyed hearing the girl tell of her ways. It was like listening to a well-woven story, but it was based on reality—history. These were stories Hydra enjoyed to hear. 

Fos goufa, Hydra repeats, intrigued; she imagined it meant only child, but never liked to assume. Sniffing at the borders and nosing a rock, Hydra continues along with Praimfaya before peering at her. I think I would like to learn your language, she drawls with interest, wondering if Praimfaya would humor her interest. For one thing, Hydra wanted to better understand Praimfaya when she lapsed into these words; for another, Hydra thought of the tactical advantage of being able to speak with Dacio, Praimfaya, and Opalia when there were less than trustworthy wolves near. Do you think you could teach me? She inquired, eyes bright upon the girl. There was no shame, or harm, in her asking—Hydra did so enjoy learning, herself.

And so throughout the remainder of their time together that day, Praimfaya began to introduce Hydra to rudimentary words rather than phrases to start. Hydra listened and absorbed with ample interest, repeating to test her own grasp on the words.

fading pp conclusion w mochi permission <3