The Sentinels wargemont

the little cub rest among the gnarled roots, and was sufficiently hidden by them while the forest nymph watched the pretty man work. a pile of the things that had scourged the land were sent into it, and the sylph tilted her head in wonderment. deirdre had witnessed her father bury prey this way, and she wondered why the frenchman brushed them into the hole in the very same manner.

she was patient, but her quest for knowing things would have that be put to questioning. though the wood whispered and sang to her, deirdre withdrew from the nook she had lay within and drew toward him. are they to eat? asked the youngest witch of donnelaith, her verdant green eyes shifting from the locusts place of rest—as decided by renoir—and the frenchman himself.