Dragoncrest Cliffs are plumes of pampas grass

No surprise that the island weighed heavy on his sister's mind. He had not asked a lot of questions so far about it, suspecting that she needed time to settle back into Sapphique before she could tackle those. Now she seemed ready to speak of it. He tilted his dark ears eagerly forward to listen.

He had not noticed that about the Listener in when he met her. The sky was dark, the sea restless, and his focus had been on Mireille rather than the dark slip of wolf that led the druids there. Sobo was spiritual, but what Mireille suggested about the Listener was something beyond that, divinity.

The boy shook his head. I do not talk to de spirits, Mireille. I t'ink de loa heard ya an' sent ya voice ta my dreams. Dat is all. There was the confusing matter of knowing exactly where the island was and hearing the voice of the Listener calling him there. He passed these off as other phenomena the loa were responsible for. It was a once in a lifetime revelation and he doubted he would ever experience its like again.

De Listener be somet'in' not wolf, I believe. What makes you t'ink she can do dis t'ing?