The Sentinels moose and squirrel

deirdre was no small waif; she was large, her stature remniscient of grecian goddess aphrodite, when sculpted by praxiteles or drawn by botticelli! she was not so willowy, like her sister emaleth, but voluptuous! and through her frequent runs throughout donnelaith, there was strength to her softness, the muscle giving her the benefit of moving in a streamlined fashion. she stood alongside castiel, her smile having yet to remove itself from her lips.

i am well, she hummed, her tail waving behind her. by now, youth had fled from her features. but there was nothing hard about her; even her eyes were filled with a softness that few could mean in earnest. and you? how are you finding donnelaith? her ears pricked forward with marked interest, hoping he was coming to love the forest and that in time, he might love it as fiercely as she herself did. the very place was a map of her heart!