Big Salmon Lake Etched in the snow as it is in my soul

He seemed distressed; Hydra watched as he lashed out at the ice, where ripples had come forth thanks to springmelt, likely to ruin what it was he saw there: himself. That was all much too deep for her to think of. Hydra resolved conflict in one way: teeth. Words never served to solve any of her problems. She had tried, and they were utterly useless things. She had always gotten what she wanted with her teeth; Alya had been so terribly wrong. Better to be feared than loved. Only those that she knew now would get the last of it, and those she would bring forth into this world. The others that had left her behind, that she might meet... she once again found herself tired by the idea of it. If her own brother could turn his back upon her for nothing... 

The two of them were lost within their own minds, it seemed. Hydra remembered him there only when he had spoken. Hydra had not perceived him as threat enough to not drift, so it seemed, but now with his eyes upon her there were things that became more apparent. Wolf regarded wolf, and Hydra, master mercenary that she was, saw the fighter in him. 

You must have lost a great battle, she recognized, voice low. She was beginning to be able to see, to some small degree, what a mental wound could do. But she hardly knew the full extent of the damage it could bring. Her own mental anguish fueled her fire, her rage. Life was a war. It hurt. But when it struck, she would ever strike back ten times harder. She could not live in the past where she had been wounded; there were far better things coming than what had left. Hydra would make certain of this.