The Sentinels Know you hear me

@Starbuck they haven't met yet? :)

The morning found Tansea in her garden, digging the rows as neatly as she could in the faint grey light of near dawn. If she hurried she might get a few plants of a more resilient variety planted and flowering before winter. 

It was not as easy as one might think, especially for the diminutive Baffin Island wolf. Her buff coat soon grew to be as brown as the dirt she was digging, her paws and forelegs aching from the effort. Nevertheless, the dryad continued to dig with excitement brewing in her chest. 

The witch hummed beneath her breath, no words to her music; only a steady thrumming from her throat.