The Sentinels these feelings

nightly, with the encouragement of her father, deirdre spoke to the woods and created her circle. she prayed and she sang and she dreamt of life returned. as she moved through donnelaith now, humming lowly an ancient melody, deirdre swore she heard a rejoinder; the tiniest, frailest whisper upon the wind, an eager beckoning from ones awakening.

the witch moved toward it, her frame trimmer than ever 'twould be when she was well-fed. though of all in donnelaith, 'twas she and emaleth who were best fed given their status, and so she was not so guant as to look ghastly. her beauty had become elven in its variety, curves that would typically be soft sharp and pronounced. always her loveliness had been cherubic, but as a wolf that now looked unquestionably woman in contrast to girl, she looked ethereal.

deirdre moved from out of the wood and toward another who had found the slumbering seed first, and was given pause for a moment. this was a face she did not yet know, and the grown seven month old regarded the wolf who had the looks of both a man and a woman with fascination. and she moved behind a tree, not sure if she had been seen, her shyness preventing such a thing although she did wish to greet the other.