Phoenix Maplewood What if the witches wrote the book

So she was lost. Her actions betrayed nothing of the worry she might've felt; perhaps a creature as gentle and excitable as her would live long by taking things in her stride. "I'm a traveller," he grinned. That was partly truthful; he didn't know what Heda would do should she find out he spiller the beans to a wolf, even one who claimed she lived far from these autumnal woods. Craning his neck forward, he nipped another round berry from the bush and watched with mild interest as it returned to its original position with a satisfying twang.

"Looking to see of there are any bands of creatures close to here that I could acquaint myself with." If Starbuck knew anything about any settlers planning to claim the Maplewood, then that statement would most likely trigger a helpful answer. "Though I do know a little about this land from a wolf I've spoken to, perhaps enough to send you on your way." Thuringwethil had described the Grotto as being a close distance to the coast, maybe he could journey with her should she not have the answers he was searching for.