The Sentinels some used your na[m]e for glory, some used it for their gain

deirdre turned her head as the wood seemed to scream. she was alert, and another sound, similar... the young babe looked to the direction that she had been heading, and then back to the place the sound had come. in truth, the way the wood moved reminded her of the things she heard within the whelping den when a loved one returned to her. and though the wind seemed to encourage her in another direction, deirdre could not help the excitement in her heart.

athair! she shouted, sur-pise! deirdre is here! and she headed toward 'him', a skip in her step. she herself was close to the den, far from the she-wolf that intruded; but the echoes in wednesday's wake could be heard all around the sudden quietness. deirdre herself, too, stilled then. the birds sang no more. the sentinels stood still and stalwart, and she felt their great size and felt safe. she was not sure if she should head forward anymore, though she desired to. something told her that all was not well, and so instead the little witch waited here, not knowing better, not knowing her intuitiveness had not led her astray.