Hushed Willows not like the cistern

a few other wolves trickled in, but Olive remained entranced by the dynamic pair that had come across their borders. They spoke in sing-song voices that the sylph found absolutely endearing, and Olive found that it was rather infectious. With a grin splitting her maw, Olive turned to look from the wolves at her left, to the wolves at her right, and couldn’t think of an appropriate thing to say in the face of such greatness and the promise of a song. Instead, her tail whipped and beat a steady rhythm against the rumps of whatever wolves stood abreast of her, saying all that her tongue suddenly couldn’t.