Moonspear Vienna

It seemed that Hydra did not see their enemies the way he did- and made him realize that perhaps he'd fallen into the habit of giving others too much of the benefit of the doubt. He thought he was doing the right thing by believing that somewhere, within every wolf, there was something inherently, innately good, and that they it would cause pain to someone who was potentially a very good, kind wolf if they should be killed in a fight. He failed to see that there were only two sides- a good side and a bad side- when it came to fights, and had figured that everyone had a story...And that the narrative shaped a bias. He tried to avoid having a bias, but was now learning that it was alright to take a side- and that wolves like him and Hydra, they were right. They were good. These Saints? They were bad. He found it hard to believe that he should have to label wolves so quickly, but...If Hydra was right, then he couldn't simply give second chances to those who might go on to cause more damage. 

"I...Don't think I ever heard it put that way. That we fight because we must, and that others, they fight just...Because they want to, or because they can. It's just wrong, that wolves like that exist," He sighed ruefully. Why couldn't they simply live and let live? Leave others well alone if they didn't like strangers, but there was absolutely no reason for a pack of wolves to go about attacking strangers for no reason. 

He was quiet and sympathetic when Hydra told him the story of a wolf she'd once let go, and the regret she seemed to feel having given him that chance. She lost her sister to whoever this wolf was, who then went on to attack a pregnant sister...And when Hydra explained about Towhee and Niamh, he clued in, and recognized bits and pieces of the story. It wasn't one told at length- and his mother'd never really answered his questions, and had often gotten quite cold whenever certain things were mentioned. He'd seen a cliff before, and had seen the way his mother stared off into the angry ocean beyond, as though accusing it of something. It must've been the same wolf, then. An enemy they shared. 

"It's...Not your fault, though." He said, softly. He knew he couldn't say much to make her feel better, and that it wouldn't bring her sister back. But at least, he felt she shouldn't carry around the guilt. "It was his choice to be a coward. And his choice to go on and attack another wolf. That's not on you; you can't control what someone does, whenever they leave your sight." He said. "But...I understand having...Feelings, knowing that he made bad choices after you tried to give him a chance. I'm sorry, Hydra, that's a lot of tough stuff to deal with. But for what it's worth...I think you're doin' a pretty good job of what you're doin'," He supplied a slight shrug, and a faint, but optimistic smile. These regrets she voiced were things that he feared, and knew that he too would struggle with, should he ever be put in a similar position. 

It flattered him to think that Hydra found their sentiments to be similar; he aspired to be a wolf who could pass judgement, feel regrett, acheive leadership but also be humble enough to talk about past failures, guilty feelings and hard topics with the younger members of the pack in an attempt to steer them in the right direction. She wasn't forcing his hand, she was guiding it. And she, unlike his mother, seemed to recognize that minding the children wasn't something that was in any way emasculating, but challenging. "Yeh, they get pretty fast pretty quick. Even more interesting when there's more'n a couple of them. How many kids do you have, Hydra?" He asked.