The Sentinels hear! come! i call thee forth

aye aye!

lasher did not know how he felt; he could put no word unto it, nor could he speak it into existence. beneath the dying light of day he stood, and he was silent, contemplative. much had occurred, and yet donnelaith had not lost its very character -- it stood fast-rooted among the ruddy trunks and stretching canopy overhead. his inability to please peregrine weighed upon his conscience, for it was not simply the carnal aspect he had failed -- it was the rekindling of the flame that had once burned so brightly between them.

a sort of resigned sadness had settled onto the druid's withers; he took aria from time to time, but he had seen neither ayishi nor luke. the thought had come several times to him to remove donnelaith into the thicker woodlands, but he could no more take them away from their beloved place than he could run away from his small witches.

emaleth -- her voice rose in a moving trill, one that touched the colder reaches of his heart, and lasher lifted his own voice to mingle with her own, his lower notes weaving 'neath her higher aria, supporting it as an eagle might support the unsteady wings of its chick upon its first flight through the currents of air -- they sang, and perhaps donnelaith joined them with their own tendrils of sound, but when it had ended, the spirit found his dark little witch and kissed silently her forehead.