Hushed Willows there's a syncopated beat

If she'd spoken her thoughts aloud, Dusty Rose might have understood a little about her woes. Not that he was in the thick of anything — it was just that he was accustomed to being an integral part of his group. He'd only been part of one, and they'd lived on top of each other and squished together under the moon each night. Thousands of miles of desert, and they'd stuck to each other like glue. He didn't know how to function in a pack where wolves chose who to hang out with and when.

It was a lonely sort of feeling.

He shot Reina a quizzical look when she hinted at a story. As they reached the furthest he was willing to go on his own, he stopped and set his prize down once more.

"I guess I'd say I've got no choice but to believe you," he replied, his tone dubious. "If that's what you're gonna tell me, anyway."