Gilded Bay all this pain and devastation, how it tortures me inside

Over the sound of her own weeping, Emaleth did not hear the approach of a stranger until he was upon her. She had never met anyone that was not pack before, and a mixture of fear and regret caused her heart to thunder in her chest. As he spoke, the sobs caught in her throat and she was overcome with a terrified silence; she dared not even look at him, though her head swung so that she might catch a glimpse of him in the corner of her eyes. Little Emaleth had no desire to speak to the man, but silence would not stay his teeth if he wished her harm.

"My father is the Great Druid of Donnelaith," she told him, hoping her sniffles did not detract from the impressive title. After a moment of consideration, she drew herself up to standing, posturing herself in a way that she hoped was foreboding. "I am the witch," her small but articulate voice continued, "that summoned the storm." If that didn't scare him off— what powers she wielded!— than nothing would. It was unfortunate that she could not seem to control the magicks she was born unto, but he didn't have to know that— or why she was crying if she had summoned the bugs in the first place.