Honeyed Pasture she got me going crazy

Closing up old threads! Closing this one with permission.

Szymon, his ruffled feathers soothed by Rowan’s general agreeableness, remained for some time with the pale-eyed witch of the forest — soon to be bound to a faraway creek. Then, unable to tarry any longer in waiting for Deirdre, he made his apologies and farewells — stammering and stuttering though they were — and returned to Stavanger Bay with the fawn’s hide clutched tightly in his jaws to present to his Chosen One.