Hushed Willows [festival] so twice five miles of fertile ground

Isleña watched as Tashkent asked Aure permission to join their ranks, she assumed. Why else would she be mentioning Drageda, which was about the only word she understood from Tashkent’s flowery language. Isleña has always been jealous of her cousins grasp on the common tongue, but hadn’t realized just what a valuable skill it was until she had been thrust into the world of wolves who were not Luks. Whether that’s what Tash had asked or not, Isleña threw back her head and gave a hearty laugh.

“Dostum, başqa bir yerə getməyə icazə verərdim!” she shouted, happy and thankful to finally say these words. It was an amazing feeling not to be so alone in the world, surrounded by two wolves that — at this moment in time — meant the most to her. In fact, she was surrounded by many, many wolves, several of whom she actually knew and were friends with, despite the obvious language gap. After things being bad for so long, things were finally becoming good.

That was not all Isleña had to say, though. “Lüks bir-birinə bərabərdir - kiçik olsa da, ola bilərik. Bir dəfə daha güclü inkişaf edə bilərik.” she reached her head out and tapped their foreheads together. Their story want not over yet. “Sizi Xorasandan izlədim, indi də bu dəniz canavarları arasında yaşayırıq. Bu, növbəti çağırışdır.” Isleña meant it as innocently as possible. She wanted to truly live amongst Drageda, and now Tashkent would get the same chance — perhaps, honestly, it was their only chance.

Isleña did not feel bad for using her language with her cousin, after so long of being relatively mute, but she eventually switched to the language the entire trio understood. It was not nice to leave Aure out of these things; she very clearly wanted to be a part. “You go with us,” Isleña said, hyper-aware of how dumb and clunky her voice suddenly became.  “but the first thing is party,” she didn’t really know where she was going, but she wanted to talk so she said “— and celebrate —” and choppily added on “…the happy things.” to form a fully-fledged sentence. She was making a fool of herself in front of Tashkent, now… everyone else must have just gotten used to it.