Moonspear wake up, am I dreaming?

Hydra listened to the tale of the empress with apt interest. She found she could understand the other easily enough now, where once it took her several moments to piece together and translate in full what was being told to her. Hydra took note of everything said, logging each detail as it was provided. Hydra was glad to hear of the leader beating the other that had been so foolish as to challenge three to a piece of land she had no claim to... and evidently, Donovan had elected not to help the other that, presumably, ran with him. 

Aiolos, a fellow leader, her general. 

Ying. Where was @Ying in this? Perhaps with the children... a good sister, but surprising to hear the roles between the two women shift so. The woman before her fighting where once it had been her sister! Confusion came for a moment as to whether or not Donovan had been the one torn half to death, or her general... she would ask after; Hydra hoped it was the former, and that if he did not die from that battle then perhaps from a wicked infection. A painful death, but surely one he deserved from his misdeeds. 

Hydra's attention was brought to as the other mentioned Praimfaya. Hydra had not thought long on the girl since she had discovered the other had departed from Moonspear willingly and of her own free will. To hear that she had come to harm was... unfortunate. But such came with the dangers of of being a lone wolf. Hydra would certainly kill any who sought to walk through Moonspear, in peace or otherwise. The world was big enough to take the longer route. All the same, Hydra was displeased to hear it, if only because she cared for the girl once—but Praimfaya had made her choice. 

As the other went on, Hydra did not feel excluded from the events that came after despite not being involved. She had been busy rearing her children and defending Moonspear—the rest were closer to this threat, and it made all the sense in the world that they were called upon. Ira, Mal, Simmik... these she knew. Lumiya she did not, but evidently the Saints had earned themselves more enemies. Hydra was glad to know of them; their leader sounded... well, irrational, all told and revealed. 

Aiolos... is he alright? She asked firstly, caring for the wellbeing of those that fought with the empress. In the next breath, she asked, how does Donovan look, in appearance? She was quiet as she awaited the response to this, too. You are not wrong to think so. Such is the nature of wolves with their spirit, she revealed candidly, and added, Aphrodite will not be the last wolf they come to harm, nor Praimfaya—of that I am certain. Someday your children will find their legs taking them further and further from home, as surely as my own may—and someday, it could be them who the Saints turn their teeth against, for no reason at all but for their own broken, ruined spirit, she rumbled darkly, mocking Donovan's bid to turn himself into a victim thanking his own dead family (thank whatever powers might be for that good fortune, as Hydra thought genocide for that brand of wolf was the safest, best course for all) for his own behavior. 

Hydra fell quiet then, her expression as dark and foreboding as her words. And then, Ira fought with you, as did Lumiya and Mal, with Simmik... Have they shared similar experiences with these Saints? she wondered. How far had these wolves gone, thus far? Did the rest see what she did? How much further they could, if allowed the room to breathe? These wolves were all better and far kinder than she if they did not—it would get them killed. 

She was no hero, not in any story. Not in this one, either. There was no glory in the things she imagined doing to those that might harm her own. Only blood and gore. Hydra knew there was no if, should these Saints continue to roam the map freely... only when. 

And also that she did not want to grant them the chance.