Ankyra Sound once there was a bee named spider

"Maybe she's a spy, too," suggested Wylla in a voice that fell low and slippery. She didn't trust either of them; the only reason the salty little Luschyon tolerated Caiaphas' presence was Lycaon. She felt nothing but chilly threat from the witch, although that was subject to change if they came face to face. She'd never actually met the coywolf and had no desire to change that. She just assumed from Lusca's tales that she was a wretch, two wolves sewn together, one the head of a wicked crone and the one the body of a thrall, sworn to do the hag's bidding forevermore, that she might live eternally with younger organs.

Or something equally heinous.

"Who cares?" she had to ask as the brothers wondered after Arrille's well-being. He'd been fun enough to play with in the caves, but in the moment and with bias painting her memory, she thought of how he'd stared blankly into a pool of water, swirling his paw around while supplying bare minimal conversation before she initiated play. Based on that, and the fact he'd single-handedly incited violence from the neighbouring pack that they had thus far ignored, she neatly surmised that, "he acts like he's fucked in the head anyway. Complete retard." Her eyes darted between them and she asked, in hopes of changing the subject back to something other than the weak links in the chain of Grimnismal, "but how are you two? C'mon, you need to get cleaned up."