The Sentinels and all the living creatures, look on with mortal fear

There was no alterations to his expression, as the beaked animal could not smile. But his heart was warmed by the sweetness of her voice, and the genuineness behind her curious queries, something that could only truly be believed within one so young. His mistrust of others was what kept him alive, but children, he believed and had been told, could not lie. Beings were not born cruel, but made into such things.

We, he responded, For many speak through this body, the vessel. We are we, and never I. We are but a watcher, and an influence when permitted... he boldly looked upon the sylph, sensing something to her. Why, it was her ilk they served and taught! We perhaps have been brought to teach you. We will see, for though they perceived they knew all, in children it was difficult to detect. In her, though, he perceived a great strength; he could smell her power! He was ruffled, and side-stepped, clicking his beak. It had been a long time since he had felt such a way. His late apprentice who was found earlier than she was nothing in comparison... it was he who marveled, then, and he caught the beryl sheen of her eyes and let out a hoot. How, indeed... he drawled, talons wrapped tightly around the wood. You will learn this for yourself. The White Witch of the wood; said to hold the spirit of the forest destroyed, its strength and its years and years of Knowing! The viridity of the place in both eyes, a being filled with dread; its death had been painful, and long, but it lived and bloomed here. We would know why you weep, but our eyes have been closed; we are awoken, now. The forest sings as the Olde Forest once did! It keened with her; forest mourning with forest, like speaking to like.