Hushed Willows there's a syncopated beat

His expression remained impassive while she approached, though his brows lofted briefly at the word toy, and then again at what sounded like a name. Fox. It was a little more personal than he would've liked. Singling one out of the bunch at all seemed like a bad idea — but wolves were always doing strange things.

"A lil while, yeah," he agreed, finding that he could not accurately count the months he'd been among them. He knew that Reina had been there already, though. She tended to be in the thick of things — something he'd noticed when the band of healers had paid them a visit.

The bird continued its struggle under his paw. Dusty Rose ignored it, his attention focused on the wolf before him.

"I don't tend to connect much, anyway," he replied, excusing the lack of time they'd spent together. One wolf was usually as good as another for him. He'd taken a special liking to a few along the way, of course. He thought that he might as well count Reverie among them, at this point. But he'd learned to keep his distance from other wolves. Now in his third year, he'd lost much of his youthful optimism. He'd been scorned too many times for his mixed heritage, and he was wary even now in the face of Reina's friendly words. "But yeah. I've enjoyed it. Sure. It beats slummin' it on my own."