At the forefront of the wolf attack convoy, Hibell sat on the heavy motorcycle beside, softly singing a haunting ballad:
[They laugh and cavort, in opulence and luxury]
[Everything is clearly divided and understood]
[We are deeply ensnared in hardship, endlessly sinking]
[Yet the years flow like water]
[In an instant, we awaken, with blazing flames]
[Who blows the horn in the night?]
[The high walls tremble slightly, destined to vanish]
Singing along, tears welled up in Hibell's eyes, trickling down in the cold wind.
A young man with thin-framed glasses came up behind Hibell, gently placing a hand on her shoulder: "Hibell, you're crying again."
Hibell wiped away the tears, elbowing the young man's stomach: "Troy, and you are my own brother! I've told you many times, this isn't crying! I tear up when I get emotional, it's a physiological reaction, I can't control it!"
