There are, quite frankly, a lot of them. A swift head count gives the young dark girl a count of seven, excluding herself, as there are four and four. They are the children of their darkest Uncle, and it shows in their faces and bodies even if they do not know it. It is also in their scents, and with each passing second Camilla is gathering more and more information on them. One of the boys stands out in particular to her- he is mostly all white with silver and grey thrown in and contrasting facial features. His irises match his body in their haunting snowy hue, but it is not his outward appearance that catches her attention. It is the way he moves his body, the subtle hints here and there, especially when it comes to his ears. They do not move and gather things the way her lips and tongue do not move to make sound. Where she is silent, his entire world is silent. And this she understands in the few fractions of a second.

Green eyes return to the small frame of her little sister, where she takes the blame of the first girl tripping upon herself, and Camilla cannot help but accept it. Semele would always be the sweet one, the innocence out of all the beauty and misery int he world. And her older sister would always be just at her shoulder, silent and protective as the day they had come into this world together. Some of them are picking fights and the others are calming them, while the rest either watch or find their own interests. Such as Semele, when she approaches the first girl and asks her to join them. There is no distate in Camilla, only brief curiosity as she glances to the one so similar to her own sister. She would never deny her sweet sister a thing, and as it were, there was only one way to know another. Something has her momentarily pausing in surprise, though.

For while she knew from the get that the dual toned boy was living in a world of silence- he still found the method of speech. She stared for several long seconds, long and hard at the one that seemed to defy his own disability before just like that she is turning away to place herself beside her redheaded and creme painted sibling. If he could find a way, so could she, or at least that's what she had decided. Alistair was his name, and though she did not and could not give her own, she would remember his until her last day. The boy who beat the silence down and won, something she could not even begin to fathom. But now was the time for enjoyment with Semele and this other, to find flowers for their Mother if only to please her and the other two. For truly, Camilla had no interest in the pretty flowers and beauty of the Spring, but she would be present for Semele and that was enough.

Her sisters laugh is there, ever chiming and tinkling in ones ears and the dark wolf thinks that she would not enjoy such other sounds so much. Least of all laughter from other souls, besides her sisters very own, of course. But when the other girl giggles herself, she second guesses herself for she does not mind that sound either. With silent inward thought, she is poised to follow the two young ones wherever they may go, to be their silent watch and make sure nothing befalls them. If any of the others wish to fall in behind them, she would allow it if only they stay just there- behind them, where Camilla can be closest to her sister. Leave it to any big lug to get in the way where she is needed most, and she would be damned if anyone ever came between her sister and herself. She would die before that day.