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

she seemed a child who had lost her way, but in the next breath, she was more timeless than himself or the witches who had come before him. never before had lasher so wished to join her in working with that craft -- he knew the energy of spells, and their power, but save for a few simple chants, he had never attempted to call down the elementals or offer succor to the ghosts that had roamed the glen as they did now.

the chirpings and cracklings of the devouring insectine multitude would drive him mad before this was all over -- his jaw tensed as he tried then to focus solely on deirdre. here was a witch before the instrument of witches, and taltos was torn between mentoring her and quailing before the latent strength that had been apparent in deirdre from the very beginning.

"yes. it would not be emaleth who returned. it would appear as her, but it would lack the core of what it is that makes your sister." he was ill now; his gorge rose at the thought of emaleth's dark little body lying somewhere, her spirit gone, her fur trampled by locusts! he rose unsteadily. "come. come with me." surely this place was cursed now.