Phoenix Maplewood What if the witches wrote the book

Starbuck plucked another berry from the bush, then had an excellent idea. She listened attentively to what he had to say, but as he spoke, she edged beneath the bush where a number of blueberries had dropped. They were softer, overripe berries, but they still smelled wonderful. With a little shimmy to place herself perfectly, Starbuck plopped onto the ground and rolled onto her back.

I know of a pack! she said, pleased she could help. She made sure to really work the squished berries into her shoulder, then flopped onto her side to get some berry on her face. Back the way I came, there is a group of wolves living in a forest of willows. Recalling the beauty of the place brought a sigh of whimsy to her lips. Finally she rose, now considerably more blue than she was a few moments ago. But oh! she smelled much better. Oh, you do? I need only to get back to the coast. From there I can find my way home.