Hushed Willows Could've been the wine

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The court wolves assembled quickly. Kincaid was behind her, then at her side, then almost in front of her. An unnamed black and grey man arrived — barking incoherently for the cat to vanish from these lands. Then Orlaith, loud and booming. Eleuthera’s heart thrummed in her chest, her blood rushing fast, teeth gritting, wanting to defend her beloved lands and Faeries but also not wanting anyone to get hurt. Even though the mountain lion vehemently defended his right to be here, Eleuthera continued to maintain this it must be a misunderstanding. As long as the interloper was ousted, there was no problem, was there? This was not a Saints wolf.

“You must go!" Eleuthera yelled loudly over the din, though her soft, flowery voice was easily drowned out. She pushed against Kincaid with her chest and shoulder for strength, wanting to get out in front of this but equally sacred of being struck. “No one needs to get hurt!"

Post order? What’s that?