Hushed Willows ἀνερρίφθω κύβος

It would be night soon, he thought— with the sun quickly sinking— but he was not left unattended long, and he was graciously intercepted by a small, shadowy host of the willows. He didn't see what color her eyes were, because he was looking "respectfully" somewhere around her dainty feet. Another, much paler, she-wolf arrived nearby, but he could only glance distractedly her direction before being addressed by the first.

Teleklos straightened, and pulled back his ears in expressive deference. "I am Teleklos Lycurgus of Lacedaemon," he introduced himself, as trained. "I have recently dispersed," he continued with a well-practiced line— something he had worked over countless times in his head before arriving; "from my birthplace in search of my brother Eurycrates... he, well, I seem to have lost his trail recently along the coast, and I feel I must abandon my search to find company for the cold days ahead."

He had meant to be curt, had even rehearsed keeping his introduction to twelve words or less, but the bard's nervous tongue lashed hungrily, and he remembered that he had not spoken to anyone in several weeks.