Moonspear seal team sixty-nine sexecuting the hit

The physical reaction of Dragomir was met with mute apathy; Hydra could not pretend to understand what he was going through, and was not empathetic in nature. Traditionally, she met snarl with snarl, but she was not so unfeeling as to be oblivious to what he likely felt. Hydra knew the permanence of losing ones parents, but they would never have willfully abandoned her. No, only death had such a power; it was the same for she herself now. Aurewen lacked that piece of her, it seemed; it was best the sylph's children know this now, and recover from the fractures she left in their wake. The sooner, the better. She did this for no ones sake, she felt, but the children present now. Only when Dragomir turned to quit the scene did she note his injury, though any adrenaline he might feel likely made him look, in the moment, healthier than he was. It was only a slight hitch she saw then and there, but it did not hold her attention long. 

The father spoke for them all, still, and her eyes were back to him. Hydra nods in quiet understanding. 

She was surprised to hear of the riverlands flooding; so, there would be nothing for Andraste to have returned to. Vercingetorix spoke of not knowing what to do next, and his son being injured; her eyes turned back to him, and she did not entirely take his meaning. They were not wolves who offered sanctuary, but Andraste would have died without their intervention and Hydra had been thinking more of Kaistleoki than anything else; though she did not really care what they thought, it would be the second wolf that had come to Moonspear and returned worse for wear... assuming the first Knight had made it home at all, or if she simply debated going back only to return. 

Hydra looked back to Dragomir. A mountain could rebuild strength in his hindquarters, when he is ready to climb, her tacticians mind brought these words to life, and her ears twitched. We have watched surrounding territories fall. I do not know where you will go next, either, but if you and yours seek something permanent, we too are a family, she hummed. Perhaps not his, not from where he stood at least—but Moonspear was family. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles; new blood was welcome however they might wish to be. Cousins, perhaps. Family all the same. You would be welcome. She looked to his daughter for a moment, then to his son as to indicate they all would be. 

They lingered upon the fetal mound in the distance. Fickleness might run in their blood, but she found them blameless, for now; some maternal instinct reared its head in her, to offer such. Though it was not done lightly, and likely would only come once. She was feeling kinder than usual, today. Was he injured in the flood? She asked next, curious as to this. Where Moonspear stood, flooding was the least of their worries—but she had heard the landslide of the neighboring mountain, and so did not keep too close to the peaks should swift escape be necessary. Hydra felt more comfortable upon Moonspear of late than anywhere else; it felt the most stable, even when the earth shook.