Firefly Glen just the same as i was

A mischievous twinkle appeared in Cicero's mismatched eyes when the wolf in front of him as she mocked him. He did not care. He was used to being mocked. To find out she knew of the information he sought made him wish that he did not carry Burke's scent upon him, for it might have made gaining her trust and information a lot easier. Yet the game was what truly thrilled him and so he did not mind. His body remained relaxed, but the twinkle in his eyes suggested that he was intrigued rather than offended by the way she mimicked his way of speaking.

It turned out that she knew of the Dark Brotherhood. Cicero wondered where these wolves came by its name, for he only knew it as Blackfeather Woods when he was out of the forest. Had others not held their tongue? A name was a name, however, and if she was not willing to give out the information he requested, it was useless to ask her which wolf, Blackfeather or other, had told her the name of their pack — or rather, the name that they called each other, for that was what the Dark Brotherhood stood for in Cicero's opinion. It was their thing, not the outside world thing. But a word was still but a word, given meaning and power only by those who wielded them, and so he pushed it aside.

"What promise was made?" asked Cicero, finding himself curious for what information she could give him; not just of the Plateau wolves, but of whatever had happened between herself and Blackfeather Woods. He asked, "Was it a promise made by Burke?" For it could well be that another wolf of the Woods, authorative enough or not, had made it, and Cicero wanted to estimate the worth of the promise by its author.