Hushed Willows as spring opens (touching, skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose

Kincaid was grateful for the reassurance, even if her words on this matter meant precious little to him, in that moment. He saw in her the wild spirit of Nine Lives; the same maddness that'd driven him to new and different and dangerous heights at every turn. He had never been enough to keep him from taking those risks, and he did not believe he was enough for Eleuthera; 

Perhaps she was waiting on her own Mollie.

"I don't say it t'make you sorry," he said, and said honestly.

They were on the move in the next moment, and Kincaid was just as glad for the change of subject. He cracked a fond smile at the idea of a little lilac pup swinging from her momma's jaws, kickin' the whole way, more than like — and then his eyes glinted in understanding at the word Elysium.

"I knew a mountain range called Elysia, once," he told her with a wag of his tail. "Ranged it, I mean. They called it Elysia 'cause it was so high, it was scrapin' heaven's doors. Anyway; I can see how a place like this gets t'be called Elysium. Seems as it's a slice of somethin' from another world."

He squinted around at the trees, as if this was not quite the compliment it might seem. Presently, the scent of roses was growing stronger and stronger, and he was beginning to ask himself it was yet another strange quality of the woods or if, perhaps, he was having a stroke.

"I been to maybe three or four parties in my lifetime," he went on, intensely interested in the idea, "and every time I've seen things I ain't ever seen before. Sometimes its strange stuff bein' passed around, or others its rituals — weren't too fond of all that. But me and Nine, we'd go whenever we heard about one. Didn't get much time with other wolves, since it was just me an' him, and we ain't the most harmless lookin pair, me an' him together."

He realize he was speaking in the present tense and abruptly clammed up once more.

"What all happened at your parties?" he asked her.