Ghost Lion Crag Just a groove.

Towhee was—ah, she elaborated. The matriarch had hoped that Wraen may have perished, or something to that effect that would make her otherwise indisposed. True that Hydra did not wish the she-wolf any ill, but if illness struck it would not be a crying shame to the Ostrega. There was not a lick of disappointment to be seen on her features despite the fact that no such thing had happened. You did not, she hummed with a wave of her tail. I am glad to hear it, though truth be told I cannot say I am surprised. Of wolves that are meant to be leaders, you certainly spring to mind, Hydra complimented. Wraen would be foolish indeed to neglect Towhee and what she offered as a whole. Hydra saw Towhee as more of a first-in-command sort of wolf, though held her tongue there. Towhee was happy, and that was all that mattered to the Ostrega, truly. 

On the subject of Wraen, though, Hydra wondered of how she fared. Neither enemy, nor friend—there was a cool indifference Hydra felt for her. Still, perhaps one of her siblings might care to know how she was doing. It did seem the polite, right thing to do. Good-naturedly, she inquired without personal interest and a wave of her tail, does your first-in-command expect cubs of her own this year as well as Niamh? She wondered if there might  be many new Firebirds this year, as she hoped there might be a gracious plenty within Moonspear. A manageable amount, of course—but more than simply her four.