Re: [Woods: Patrick & Raven]
The single word had been a fight, almost exhausting to rake her way through her mind to find the way to shape her mouth, the way to force out air in a way that would make a sound. She should probably be pleased that she'd been able to manage that much, even if the word hadn't been correct. But it frustrated her, and the crease that stayed between her brows was evidence enough of that. She'd reached the point where she wanted to speak, and if she was at that point, she wanted to be understood.
At least he seemed to realize what she'd wanted to say, or he was able to interpret well enough. Cookies weren't the problem (and her stomach tightened at the thought of food - she'd need to eat soon), and if the sister was anything like the brother, she would probably be alright to be around. But... not yet.
The day before the moon... the phrasing took a moment to parse, and then she was smiling again, her almost-smile, and her lips parted to let out a sharp breath. Again, no sound but the expulsion of the air, but combined with that warm non-expression, there was little else it could be other than a laugh. She had nothing to fear from the moon, and she knew it. Remembered it. And so there was mischief in her eyes when she pressed her lips together, thoughtful, and then took a deep breath.
The sound wasn't loud, and it began as rough as that single word had been, a voice that had been unused for too long. But this wasn't a word. It was a quiet mimic of a warbling howl, not loud enough to carry past the bit of clearing they were in, not loud enough to call anyone at any distance, but it was unmistakably a wolf's howl. Or at least the skilled impression of one. It lasted only a few seconds before she pressed her lips together again, face becoming more relaxed and expressions coming easier, eyebrows raising a hair's fraction as if looking for confirmation from him.