The Sentinels and witch hearts

he felt tension sweep the body of his pale daughter -- without thinking, lasher crooned unto her, soothing whatever doubt deirdre might have. presently she latched to his lip -- the curve of a smile tightened the flesh there beneath her grasp. it was an odd sensation, but one altogether quite welcome. "little deirdre," the druid murmured. "whatever shall you grow to be?" he was not the giver of milk, but he hoped to be a source of comfort for both children in the days to come.