Moonspear 'cause they got powers and stuff

Not ready, as they would not be given? That was a foreign concept to the Ostrega; then again, Hydra was a woman who took what she wanted. Whatever it was she desired had no choice but to be ready when she was. Hydra had not missed the way Yings gaze found the earth in so downtrodden a way, but she had enough tact to know not to press, there; that was her own business.

Her notched ear flicked as she thought more on that; but Ying expressed no further interest in having these things herself... You would need a strong and stable mate to start, Hydra hummed knowingly, any male is ready, when your season arrives. But not every male will do, she informed. For some only stayed long enough to satisfy their desires, and left before they could see the life that was yielded from it. 

The question asked was one that brought Hydra deep into thought. How could she describe motherhood properly, and justify it for all that it was? When Hydra loved, she loved fiercely, terribly; Hydra felt it for her sisters, but her children had from Hydra a sort of love she did not know that she was capable of. 

It brought to light other, darker things within her. 

It is different. Different than I expected, Hydra admitted. For she had looked upon them when they were firstborn and had been vexed with how they kept her bedridden, and yet she was awed as she saw them grow and change. As that happened, her love for them became realized—but even before then, Hydra knew that if anything were to touch them, cause them to whimper or whine, she would rip them limb from limb until there was no way to determine what or who the other had been as she would brutalize them beyond recognition. Your life is their life. Their survival depends on you, and those around you, until they are able to learn to defend themselves. In those times, I felt time moved so slowly. There was famine this year; I would not permit any outsiders of the Wilderness, and those I allied with, to hunt where food could be found if it meant my children could be fed. Better it be them that starved to death than her own. And then suddenly they grow, and they grow so fast—and you look at what you have made, and who they are becoming. All that you have done for them to get so far, it is worth it to see this—and still, you would do more. You would do anything, she thought to herself. Being a mother was different than being a sister, even to her younger siblings who she had helped to rear; it was looking at a fragment of your reflection. Watching it become whole, but still seeing you and the one you loved so dearly as they came together. 

There is nothing like it, Hydra admits finally, licking her chops.