Stavanger Bay 8 dogs 8 banjos (Optional Packtivity)

There were more arrivals, then more tales, adding to her own. She remembered, for telling at a later time, interested. But then one begun to sing, a beautiful tune, and the others threw themselves into dance. She hesitated hanging back, unsure of whether to dance with the wolves. But the song was captivating, it stirred something within, and one glance at Atoll, body fluid, and she made up her mind. 

Shimmying her hips, flowing through the gathering, the little coyote danced among those who towered above her, ignoring those who didn't and she shimmied and slipped between wolves, caught up in her own dance and adrenaline throbbing through her veins. She was one to appreciate such things, knowledge and tale and song, and she fell into a rhythm that took her all among the others, ignoring those that looked toward her, should they do so, and those who didn't.