Hushed Willows we're stuck in slow life.

Tambourine seemed almost surprised that he had been injured at all. Harlyn's brows lifted slightly as he smiled, showing off teeth that were painted in his own blood. She was pleased that he didn't feel any pain, but her concern for him didn't fade. It did, however, get sidetracked.

The boy grew suddenly excited at the prospect that his new wound might make him appear "gross". Harlyn forced a small chuckle and shook her head lightly. She was disinclined to encourage him by showing any true appreciation for the prospect, and it was this that caused her to glance at her own son. Her kids had never behaved as such, and she was perfectly pleased with that as she had no desire to raise children like Tambourine who were loud and wild and far more immature than their age ought to allow. Her kids had been clean and well-behaved, and for the briefest of moments, she wondered at that.

But before her introspection could go any further, Tambourine was crying out again. She glanced overhead as the offending dove spread its wings and took off to find a perch away from the shrieking wolves. Her gaze then moved to Tambourine, where she spotted the telltale splatter of white upon the young wolf's face. She was not quite as amused as Tambourine seemed to be. Her instinct was to clean up the mess immediately, but she held back for just a moment to glance nonchalantly over at Silas, curious to see how his reaction would vary to the other boy's.