Fox's Glade be cunning, and full of tricks

In that moment, the crow belonged to her – the witch of the wood – and he did not mind it one bit.
 
There was a sweet peace to her damaged state and recovery. The rawboned thief was eager to see her reach out with divination and touch the earth with her thaumaturgic skill. Surely, he lacked any such skill or power, but he seemed to dance with belief in her. Mona spoke with disbelief in her spirit and her own faculty. Around them, there was a zephyr from beyond the gates of their corporeal world. Even the moonlighter could feel it as it tossed the fire of his shoulders and back through the air. There was a tempest of life that rattled the woodland.
 
An inquiry struck him, and the crow fixed her with his ardent gaze. “Homba is fox,” he answered her with a shriveled smile that curled the narrow features of his face and revealed the sharp glint of his incisors beneath his coal-colored lips. Tadec met the murky jade of her eyes, and he felt himself fall into the emerald pools that existed there – only there – as they searched for the spirit of something he had never seen.