Granyl couldn't do much aside from watch as she crawled under the table, fear seeming to take over her. concerned, he followed the sound of the TImberwolves over near Midnight's hiding place, and narrowed his eyes as he glared at the wall. The sound of Midnight's whimpering caused him to turn his head and look down at her hiding place with a frown. He soon sat down and removed his saddlebag, pulling out his flute. "Shamans, craft my breaths into strokes of wind to carry my song..." He muttered to himself, putting the flute up to his muzzle soon after. He took a deep breath, before beginning to play a soft, soothing tune. Ignoring the Timberwolves outside, as they no longer mattered. All that mattered was perhaps helping Midnight through her fear, if only momentarily.