Sleepy Fox Hollow it is the east, and Juliet is the sun

"Whaaaat?" Wylla drawled, still easing into a cautious backward slide toward the nearest Nope-The-Fuck-Outta-Here ramp she could find. There were plenty of options for fleeing up the mountain, but it was toward a long-dried creek bed that she inched, what with it offering the easiest ascent. "Me, mock an intelligent and beautiful young lady like you? Why, I never!" she exclaimed whilst plastering as much false indignation in her expression as she could manage. The only two things Wylla was really good at were lying and mocking, but mockery seeped out the most when faced with an irresistible opportunity to use it.

Rheia might have been equally as stupid as Sif—the two of them came across like uncivilized cave women to Wylla, with their broken dialect and their halloos—but at least Rheia was friendly. Sif gave the impression that both her tongue and temper were as barbed as her sharp markings suggested. Though Sif's eyes glared with the same predatory comprehension as any wolf's, and perhaps held even more focus than that, Wylla just couldn't look past her bizarre way of speaking to appreciate the smart creature within. She saw only a poor idiot, and it was really too bad that poor idiots, perceived or real, brought out the loquacious in her.

"Welp it's been greaaat," said Wylla as she slipped her back paw into the groove where a creek once ran, "but, see, I'm kiiiiind of allergic to low brain cell counts, got it from my dad, and I'm starting to feel a bad reaction coming on, so... gotta go!"