Fox's Glade be cunning, and full of tricks

The thief tried with valiant effort to understand her; he longed to know what she was weaving for him through a flurry of language he was not altogether fluent in. The dark half-blooded creature watched her through the embers of his gaze, smiling in an encouraging manner. She wove a tale of magnificent beings he could not fathom on his own. Still, Tadec was enthralled with such words. There were few things that he managed to clasp, and he held them with a fevered delight until she had concluded her speech. Then still, the red girl turned to him with a desperate cry and he scooted toward her to press his nose against her cheek. The spindly creature’s eyelids fluttered over his lantern optics before he opened them to peer at her with shared passion for her vexation.
 
The coywolf shook his head softly at her inquiry, but he was not entirely capable of comprehending the meaning of a witch. She had spoken of magics and he had hoped to combine the two together to form a clearer understanding. “Not witch,” he ushered in a hushed tone, “strong girl.” It was clear in the lines that had printed to her youthful features; she had known difficulty and had clawed her way through it. Tadec could admire this for being a feat most could not accomplish, and his compliment was spoken with a soft sincerity.
 
The dark Prince moved back a step or two and plucked his paws from the earth in a soft stepped passage before halting. “Mona know magic? Show Tadec magic wood,” he urged her with curling lips and a swift tossing of his muzzle for her to lead them away from their meeting place and into an unknown land.