Hushed Willows the cold-blooded moon [festival]

Moonspear. If she'd heard of it, it had only been in passing, for the name, while pretty, didn't ring many bells in her mind. She shook her head. No apologies necessary, Lily insisted, laughter in her voice. I wasn't paying attention at all. I'm not used to so many wolves around here.

She nodded in agreement to Ame's assessment, looking around with the woman. Their pelts were similar, but she was older than Lily by several seasons, and far broader too; she felt puny next to the seasoned warrioress— not, however, uncomfortable. The blackbird suddenly had many questions for Ame.

No good hoarding it all to ourselves, she said jokingly. She glanced over at Ame, her gaze like torchlight in the darkness. Where is Moonspear? What's it like?