Little Goat Mountain that he is to take possession before Michaelmas,

cackling at this thread

the man answered primly, and buffalo found he appreciated the formal pallor of the other's tone. he himself could be such, but only with effort. and the blood-spattered man did not appreciate work. parting his lips to offer some unasked for detail about the nature of his relationship with byll, he was paused by the voice of the woman.
to buffalo's open surprise, followed by a flare of delight, the one-eyed she-wolf addressed them both with cool grit in her drawling tone. even the glower that etched her features did nothing to dissuade the quickly growing sensation of enrapturement that was beginning to ensnare the madman. 
the fancy wolf was peering at her now, flicking his haughty, beautiful eyes over her richly-hued coat, giving her an excuse predicated on buffalo's own hide. the pale bedlamite glanced between the pair of them, unable to keep the smirk from his lips, and brightened with visible delight when yet another wolf joined them, some slender little wisp with white socks, who put her mouth against the ear of the prince and whispered.
buffalo was further tickled by how the man treated his ward, greeting himself and the red woman with a pair of names. cyclone. tantalus. traveling companion. unable to contain his glee, and hoping he and the king of the forest would be treated to a catfight, buffalo sidled minutely toward the red woman, who had not yet given them her name. not too near; buffalo was a lunatic, but a lunatic with manners. "he's prettier to look at, sure," buffalo chatted in a conversational tone, motioning toward tantalus, "but i'm more of a gentleman, if you can believe it." at which he gave a hoot of his own laughter. no one would believe that; it was fucking absurd.