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

Hydra heard Spica, though her sons had arrived to the age where her own maternal sympathies and instinct were all but gone. The whining did little to appease the Ostrega, and Hydra's tail lashed behind her as she continued to speak on about her mother this, and her mother that. All that should have been thought of before the tawny cub thought to behave in a manner so... unbecoming. Whoever this girls mother was would need to be found, too, and corrected for stealing resources that were Moonspears own. In any case, it was Wintertime; the resources that could be found were precious few, and Hydra had already come to the decision that this wolf before her would not get a single one. 

Her sons behaved as the punctuation marks upon her words, and the cold look Hydra rewarded Spica with was cutting. She had no compassion for the stranger, or her situation. It would not have been this way if the other had only minded their manners. Hydra need not say anything on their behalf; they spoke for themselves through their actions. And, she felt, they did so less because of her own decree and more because of the way the other had acted; Hydra had raised them to know better, and it seemed that they very much so did to her pleasure. Spica seemed to get the signal, fortunately, and was at the very least beginning to move out. For that, Hydra stayed her teeth as she moved along behind the girl to ensure she did as she was told.