Hushed Willows In a long black veil she cries over my bones.

Nova? Octavia tried to think of who that could be, but it took her a moment. She was distracted by the flavor of the leaves, and gradually scarfed them down; then when the girl mentioned it was an older wolf, everything clicked. Nova. Right, the old woman that looks like a snow-cone. Not that she would know what a snow-cone was, but, it was better than comparing the aging wolf to a patch of yellow snow (which was also accurate but far more insulting). The woman chuffed softly after she swallowed the last of the leaves, and was left smacking her lips a bit, trying to rid herself of the taste. Maybe next time... Honey would be good. Or something. It wasn't a bad taste, just different.

If it would help Tambourine, then she'd do it over and over again. With this thought in mind, Octavia added: Thank-you. I'm sorry I was so... bitchy? Yeah, that was a good word for it. But she let the sentence hang, and gave a small shrug, moving on. If you find more then I'll gladly accept. My little boy needs all the help he can get.