Firefly Glen vive, vivio, vivira

As Hydra listened, she found she did not like what she heard. She never did enjoy weakness, and she was not one for consoling others. But this one was not asking for that, and took Hydra's inquiries for nothing more than what they were. Her critical gaze devoured the other, dissected, and Hydra considered leaving her here, sorry and sad—but something kept her here. 

There was an innate, protective desire that reared its head within her. Almost maternal in nature. Perhaps that was what it was, but she did not ponder it. Nothing is simple, she concurred. That much she knew. Some things are worth fighting for; others are not. Perhaps it is that you have put yourself in battles that were not yours to fight, or else you were not yet ready for. You were braver than most to fight them anyhow; learn, push forward. You live and breathe. That is more than many can say, came her low voice. Hydra had killed many who, from the grave, might have echoed the sentiment she extended... but as she had expressed, it was more than they could say.

Adapt. Overcome, Hydra demanded of the waif, eyes bright. nothing is simple, but most anything is possible to accomplish through will. If the other had lost it, well, perhaps there was nothing left for her in this lifetime; perhaps she would waste away and perish, as plenty did throughout the Winter.