The Sentinels If you don't care for it

she lingered inside in silence for some time. she was the epitome of patience, which was a feat for so young a child but a necessary tool for her survival. the babe was waiting for her fathers return; she remembered the day of protest vaguely, but did not interpret that he would be gone or why it was he would be gone. deirdre knew the words she was taught; none included violence, or anger, or anything else. her ever-increasing vocabulary gave her some sense of awareness, but not enough to connect one thing to the other.

deirdre thought of the food she had smelled, and leaned toward the entrance again. for a moment, her face was illuminated by a shaft of sunlight, but she took to darkness when her eyes caught the frame of osprey. the babe was simply particularly shy to those she had never seen and interacted with, but there was a succulent familiarity in the odor osprey herself wore that brought a sense of security over deirdre.

for a little while longer she remained within, and still did when her youthful soprano piped out of the darkness: who you? she bore the accent of her father, who spoke to she and emaleth at every instance he could, and who sang to them of donnelaith of old and the stone circles. the little witch did not peek at the Otherworld again, feeling safe and unknown in the mound of the mayfair's.