Deepwood Weald Fruit punch

When someone screamed her name, Larkspur momentarily thought it was Deirdre calling her. Part of her wanted to speed up and make her escape and another part wanted to turn back and apologize for her cowardice and treachery. The young witch had helped her so much and she had just run out on her. Spur would feel awful about it for a long time to come, even though it was a necessary evil. The two impulses warred within her for a moment and then she heaved a great breath and dug in her heels to slow down, turn around and face her friend.

But it wasn't Deirdre. Spur's lips parted when she saw it was Starbuck who came after her. Immediately, the towheaded child backed away. She couldn't guess why the woman had followed her here, except to tattle on her to the young witch. But of course Deirdre would notice her absence as soon as she awoke. She swallowed thickly, glancing shiftily around the dark woods, ears pinning backward dubiously as she decided to see what Starbuck might want. She insisted she wasn't here to force her hand and Larkspur wanted to believe her, if only because she was a trusted comrade of Deirdre's.

"I need to go home," she said quietly, still a little out of breath. "Please tell Deirde I'm sorry." Her eyes moistened even as they dropped to her paws.