Stavanger Bay give me daughters, send me sons, i'll make them all chosen ones

As it was, Ragna had two options. She could quiet down and give them all some peace, or she could continue shrilling like tomorrow wasn't a thing. An adult, rational wolf would, most likely, pick the first. At this moment in time, though, Ragna was exactly none of those things. So, despite her poor brother's insistence, she continued squealing fit to raise the dead.

Until a voice began to speak on a frequency that was soothing to her ears. It was a gentler, lower sound that lulled her into complacent silence. More or less silent. Sounds still bubbled unbidden from her throat as she struggled forth on clumsy legs, unsure of her destination.