How lovely are your branches

Spider had noticed the slow but consistent exodus of Abaven’s pack members and had begrudgingly followed them, still unsure if he was even welcome in the pack. He stood on the fringes, of the gathering, kneading the loamy soil nervously as Abaven proper discussed what could have caused the spectacle before them. It was beautiful he supposed but the consistent gloom that seemed to permeate every corner of his life kept him from fully enjoying the sight. He crept closer, convincing himself that at the very least no one would attack him so publicly, especially not while the air around them was so charged with wonder and bliss. He remained silent as he settled close to Shaye, his ears as always, pinned back nervously.

Spider speaking  Toad's voice You