The Sentinels i like gypsy moths and radio talk

In these adolescent months, Emaleth had become withdrawn from her family; although quite the extrovert in her infancy, the dark child had grown to find the presence of others overwhelming. While she loved them fiercely and could not imagine a life without them near, she found herself at times yearning for the stillness and quiet of the sentinels that were the strong guardians of Donnelaith. She would vanish within them for hours at a time— for it was never long before her blood found her, ushering the small witch back to safety— and felt renewed for it.

Too long in the focus of others, and the child's thoughts would grow dark and her mood foul.

It was in one of these small jaunts of hers that a meek call caught her attention; and this was a Change, for the child could not recall many breaches in the grove's borders. Curiously, she trotted towards the source to investigate; and ran to the man's side when her eyes fell upon him, and she saw his state. Emaleth did not know him well, but she knew him for pack— for family— and too young to understand the nuance of his presence, or that he may not be welcomed, she was more concerned for his well being. "Are you well, sir? I will find Eilidh," she offered in a rush, her speech proper and tiny.