Kintla Flatlands ₐｗₒₒₒₒₒ!

Willow had a number of adventures of late, many of which being positive for the oft-lonely man, and so when he heard the first tendrils of song on the wind he wasn't bothered by it. One by one there were voices joining in. He didn't know them — and they came from all over the place!
Any other moment, he would've quailed at the thought of sharing his voice. He knew it wasn't the right voice; that it was too high, too soft sometimes, and as a result he rarely sang. In this case, surrounded from every direction by the voices of strangers all singing without abandon, he felt a little different.
So what if his voice wasn't quite right; these people didn't know that, they didn't know him. There was no reason to be nervous — and well, he was feeling good right now. So he drew in a shaky breath and raised his chin, and out of his effeminate little throat came the voice of the girl he wished he could banish forever.
But it was his voice, regardless. It — he — deserved a place among the chorus.