Moonspear small boats of fire are falling from the sky

This escapade was one of her briefer ones; she was able to relieve herself and get a quick drink prior to one of here children beginning to squall. Hydra could guess at the culprit, given one at present happened to be louder than the rest. It was, of course, his fathers look a like. She could only guess at what their duets would be like once Dirge taught this litter to sing; given their hearing was limited at best presently, Altair was unsurprisingly tone deaf. The guesses filled her only with dread when she could do with a good, long, quiet few hours. 

It could not be said that Hydra was not a patient mother, though. It could be likened to that of a saint in these early months, even when they grated on her nerves. Knowing they could not help it helped... and even when they could, youth was a decent enough excuse to simply make her swallow her irritation and understand, at least, that at the end of the day they were children. She wanted to teach them to defend themselves, their pack, their home... but even when she did all that, she did not take away from their childhood and their ability to be children.  Hydra was simply aware that everything in life could be utilized as some sort of lesson, and she was not one to waste time.

Slipping into the den and watching Altair make a bid to rally his siblings, Hydra withheld the amused grin she felt in her heart. She moved to press her nose against him and ensure nothing had gone awry to make him cry so, and once she was satisfied that there was no blood or thing around them that had given him a fright, she sighed as she lay alongside the small cubs. Up to your usual antics, I see, she drawled, your father will help you work on your pitch, I imagine. And Alya will teach you how to make those crocodile tears truly believable, Hydra teased, though he could not understand her.