Deepwood Weald Fruit punch

The wraith was not so foolish that he would merely allow the child to remain under the care of the Donnelaith wolves without his added eye. While he was not within the forest realm, he was careful to have guards for the borders. If someone should try to pull the child out, he wanted to be there to prevent them from stealing the blessed thing away. Sharkbait had found a way to resent him for what he had done, but she did not understand. She was not an infant, no, but she was still young and Skellige was certain that his words were lost on her. The golden pup was so overcome by her own emotions, that she could not allow for words of ration to reach her. It was a shame – he so rarely spoke out of ration. While his explanation had been lost on the young girl, something within Deirdre had trusted him. At the very least, she did not reprimand him for how he had treated a child trespassing on his land.
 
When he had picked up the scent of Sharkbait first, he had intended to gather a party to search for her. It was not until the aroma of Deirdre had struck him – not until he could taste the nymph in the crisp air – that he recklessly abandoned his bay and followed swiftly after. The Mayfair girl was so dedicated to her healing ways, and so bothered with the wellbeing of others that she did not often think of herself. She had run into the earth in her attempts to tend to those around her, and Skellige had noted the ailments. He could not fully comprehend why she would trek after Sharkbait in her state. He was not a creature comprised of love, as she was.
 
But she ventured far from the forest of Donnelaith and Skellige found himself being pulled further and further away from the sea he was so devoted to. He trekked with his crown lifted just above the surface of the earth so that her scent was not lost to him. While his limbs carried him across an array of landscape, he paid little mind to any of it. When he could sense that he was drawing closer to her, the musky smell of two others had met his searching nose. The wolf Starbuck and Sharkbait, he noted with a strange and sudden taste of bile in the back of his throat. He wondered if Deirdre had happened across the girl or if she was still hunting. Surely, if she had found the child she called Larkspur, he would have heard –
 
A scream.
 
It was Deirdre’s voice. The savage drew his head upward swiftly and cast his dark gaze in the direction of her cry. He did not need to continue his track. Diving forward, the titan’s limbs carried him with reckless speed. He was beyond his element; thrown about in the tangle of thinly-built trees. Still, the shadow continued forward. He did not care that his massive paws had torn through the wood and sent echoes of his arrival. Skellige no longer cared that the child had wandered that far – he did not wish to find her again. The sound of the Mayfair’s scream had curdled his skin. He pushed himself to move faster. The thick tufts of fur along his neck and back bristled wildly – he was a specter. Still, he moved further away from his ocean. As the broad-shouldered beast rampaged through the weald, he sought only Deirdre.