Moonspear vokul fen mah

Arcturus did not yet know, it seemed. As to that, she could hardly blame any for not saying anything yet. What news might she have brought, after all? The damage had looked so bad that Hydra had feared death might come for him... but it had not. He lived still, breathed still too. His eyes were open, though now within them seeemed a dark shade that revealed to Hydra he had aged since last she had looked upon them. He was strong, so strong, their Osiris. 

She answered him swiftly, not wanting to cause him nor Arcturus any suffering by waiting: he has made it through the night. He is resting, now. Still quiet, but Lyra suspects he will recover. Perhaps with some scars, Hydra revealed. Her gaze now looked to her brother. Osiris... he was attacked in the Glen. Dacio was there and able to intervene before he was felled then and there, for all of her anger, her voice near broke with the sharing of the news. It was still far too early to know whether or not Osiris would survive the healing itself. Hydra had never been a woman to pray before, but she considered it in the name of her child not being afflicted by more. 

But if there was some God, would this have happened at all? 

Nothing could save them but for one another, she knew. Hydra had always known. 

She gathered her bearings; to feel so weak, to sound it... she was greatly effected by this event, but that would be the last time such an emotion might ever be heard from her. Arcturus and Dirge, the sole witness of a historic moment within her own history. The death of her parents had been similar, yet entirely different. Hydra was mother, now. Protector. And her child had come to harm by someone who she ought to have gotten rid of long ago—

Look at what hope did. Kindness. Wolves did not change. Now, now she knew for absolute certain. Life had showed her so not once, but twice. The scent of the one that did it, it was the same she-wolf that ran with Merrick and Caiaphas all that time ago, which meant she need no motivation to act as she had. With what they each knew of Merrick and Caiaphas thus far, this was simply their way. And now, the woman with a blank record scrawled her name on Hydra's ledger. No, no—it had always been there. Highlighted it. 

Hydra looked to them both. I do not doubt, sooner or later, they will strike again. Perhaps one of our own, perhaps the child of another. Who does not matter anymore; what matters is that we prevent our young from being hurt such as this, from wolves such as that, her tail lashed behind her. I think that it is time to speak with our allies on the matter of bringing it all to an end, and the way in which we could best accomplish this, she expressed. First she would hear them and their thoughts, but Hydra knew by now peace and time would not settle this. The lot had been given that well enough through the famine. All that had served to do, as far as she could tell, was see her son maimed—and that was all from what she knew. What else might they have done?