The Sentinels Bring your love baby I could bring my shame

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the magick of the glen surrounded them, engulfed them in a cascade of glimmering starlight and the wreath of fairy-whispers, the murmurings of nearby spirits. they were drawn to the coupling of the witch and her servant, she with ancient blood within her veins, and he bound to her clan inexorably.

the rightness of their melding comforted lasher in his desires and he gathered her closely, whispering in glen-tongue against the softness of her nape, until he fell from the grace of control and lost himself within the witch, completely, utterly, and for the eternal sensation that their dance had wrought in him. 

"rowan."