The Sentinels i would die for her, i would kill for her; either way, what bliss

emaleth had not been discovered, and lasher was beside himself with worry. in the chaos, however, blue willow had returned, and her logical temperament had steadied the druid. he could not abandon donnelaith outright to seek his dark one; he must remain. the once-thick branches of the proud red sentinels had been reduced to wooden bone; ethereal mists rose up from the browned grass, and all the little shadows he had come to love were no more.

taltos stumbled through this skeleton landscape searching fervently for a thread, any trace, of emaleth's scent. here and there repulsive clutches of insects clung to this bush or another, devoted to ripping the last bit of greenery from the forest. 

he no longer cared if he trod upon them, but in his searchings for the little sable witch, he found the trail of deirdre. rage was kindled in his breast that she had run off! that she was unguarded! and immediately he followed it to some eldritch pool of steaming water that flowed below the twisted roots of a willow-tree.

her call rose some moments later but he was already upon her, and his voice was thunder in the distant hills. "deirdre mayfair, come here at once." he looked at her macabre offering and suddenly, somehow, it became clear what it was she meant to do -- what it was she believed. 

"you are not suzanne!" he exclaimed, lowering his muzzle to grasp hold of the bone and he cast it violently into the pool. "do not call upon things you do not understand! where is tachyon? aria? eilidh? why have you run away from them, and why do you not grasp that you must remain where you can be seen?"