Ghost Lion Crag In the hall of the mountain king.

Ah, it was a shame that there was nothing more to remember there, but what could they do? In any case, Hydra still learned new things about the woman. Hydra's own memory was sharp, but only in matters that concerned her; she would never, for instance, forget the days where she had felt most betrayed by those she had cared so much for. It was a lifelong lesson she carried with her. Nor would she forget the actions of her father just before his death, and Speedy's part in it... though she wished that she could. She hated to think of him, feel for him, in such a vitriolic manner at all. He was her father; he had always been the best man she had ever known. 

He still was; one mistake hardly meant she despised him, and in the end he was willing to do whatever it took for forgiveness [as she saw it]. 

Her mind shifted from the past to the present, as Towhee spoke of Fen. Ah, so this was a child of Phox, her brother! And they co-parented with one another, given the death of Phox's mate—she did not want to interrupt the story, or the emotions that Towhee seemed to go through, to apologize, but the look crossed her features while she told the tale of it—and then, the story seemed to go more downhill than that, which Hydra did not think was a possible thing. Towhee did not deserve this, not at all, and Hydra felt angry that such events had unfolded within her life. But that was life, was it not? No one was safe from its cruetly; everyone, at some point or another, would feel its breath on their nape. Fen had been lost, but now at least was found... and the girl was blind. Hydra was quiet, thinking on that; she would have thought the handicap meant certain death, sooner rather than later. Then again, raised by Towhee it was no wonder this was not the case and she had survived this long, even without her for a time. I am sorry to hear about Phox, Fig... his mate, she breathed mournfully, understanding the pain of disappearance. Vela, too, had gone missing soon after the quakes began. But Fen sounds like an impressive girl. Surely her survival without you having been there is testament to the skillset those who raised her instilled in her, it was truly Towhee she thought of as she aid it, I am glad she is home with her mother again. For all intents and purposes, that's what Towhee had become. 

Hydra did not want to think the rest dead, but Hydra could think of no other reason for them disappearing without even a single trace. She had resigned herself to it; another blow dealt by life. 

Glad to hear that Wraen had not elected to gossip errantly, Hydra's opinion again shifted to that of simply nothing rather than vexation at the thought that she might have. To one of her (in her mind) best friends, no less... not that Wraen would know it. Hydra knew what lay beneath the undercurrent of Wraen's words, though. A riptide meant to keep others away, for fear of her acting out toward her subordinates. Ah, well, no harm in that; less wolves, she hoped, to skulk through the Wilderness for food ideally. Hydra was glad to hear that Wraen had saved the life of Towhee, and her tail swayed. It did not change what she knew, or how she felt, but she was thankful all the same. 

As Towhee looked around her, her notched ear rotated backward; she had not heard the approach of any, though her gaze followed Towhee's as best it could. When realizing she had been looking for something, and not that the thing (or the being) was nearby, Hydra refocused her attention on Towhee. The coast? She asked, curious as to why they would head that way. Perhaps on a hunt for food that had washed up... but the endeavor was dangerous. Hydra could know the tide from her perch upon Moonspear, but the day the quakes had begun there was no knowing what it would do; it had been thrown into chaos, and nothing seemed to be there anymore but for that. 

Hydra watched Towhee, and listened as she went into a story of her own. Rapt, Hydra listened in perfect silence, intrigued to hear more. The story became dark, and fast; she recalled that Towhee had been trapped, and could see now the effect of it upon her if only just. It sounded as though it was hard to talk about, but if it was a story Towhee wanted to tell then Hydra would let her... and be there for her, too. As Towhee seemed to curl into herself some, Hydra shifted her body only a measure as though to shield Towhee so that if others were near, they could not take advantage of this raw, and rare (to the Ostrega) moment of vulnerability. Respectfully, her gaze drew away so that Towhee could let herself feel... and then Hydra looked back to her. 

She was not good with feelings; she never had been, and likely never would be. The one thing time had not done for her was make her kinder, there, or more empathetic... but Hydra heard so much loss, and she did not need empathy for that. The matriarch, who had become such due to loss, had experienced it to know precisely the way in which Towhee felt. She need not guess. Though silent, Hydra seemed to exude that she was there. There was nothing Hydra could say to lighten the burden of it all, having carried the weight of that too with everything else... but she would always be there for Towhee, and she took a step nearer should Towhee permit it, her demeanor not at all unfeeling as she seemed to say: I will be here for you. Time, distance... it did nothing to diminish their relationship. And through all the years, it had always been so.

Hydra liked to think that nothing but death could change that.

Towhee was ready to move past it, and so too was Hydra, and she concurred. You have always been strong, Towhee. Not only shall it pass, but we shall become stronger for it, her tail waved. Hydra knew that much was true, as she had to become it to shoulder it all. I have heard it said that everything will be okay in the end; if it is not okay, then it is not the end, she drawled. And as to that, she could believe it; when all had left Moonspear as they had all those years ago, she had believed it impossible for things to be alright. But that too had found its conclusion... 

All to Hydra's liking. Rannoch had led his wolves to starvation, been struck by a bear, and abandoned his own once again, once he had been well enough; Terance had realized he was wrong, and apologized for it; and Liffey... well, Hydra awaited the day she heard she had died a terrible death herself. She was nothing but a broodmare, the way Ostrega saw it. She supposed then she would feel brilliant, but she felt all had turned out as it ought to—failure, for those she detested—and that was the blissful end.

Is that how Sugar looks, then? Hydra inquired, lip quirking at the lighthearted transition despite the circumstance. She shook her head, I cannot say I have. How old is she? Does she look full-grown, yet? I can keep an eye out, she offered.