Firefly Glen ours

She had not been looking at him to see his expression of mild terror, but her two working ears heard warmth in the typically cool baritone of her son. Did they betray her...? Her head turned to better look at him, and as he spoke on about her—all good things—Hydra quickly determined, I will have to spend more time with this Leta. And they had looked at the stars together, a sweet thing—

Much too soon for all of this. Hydra was prepared for much, but somehow not this. Not yet. 

The stars, hm? You know how your late grandfather loved them, she reminded, looking to the wide open sky before them. He was always reaching for them... she remembered fondly, her voice faraway. Her father, the starchaser. Hydra thought, if there is any place beyond the ground that we go to once we die, I would imagine that he found his way to them. 

But she knew better. She knew where his bones were, and her mothers too—and that nothing, not the landslides nor the floods, could ever move them. In any event, sensing that Leta was of some import to her son, Hydra looked to him. I must call upon her, she drawled, remembering, she wanted to learn how to protect, did she not? Have you been working with her, yet? She wondered.