Fox's Glade be cunning, and full of tricks

The moonlighter drew his ears forward at the sound of her voice and was shocked to see the cool green of her gaze widen upon catching sight of his long-limbed and rangy appearance. She was truly a stunning thing, cloaked in sharp scarlet and rich gold, with a gaze that whispered an age not belonging to her. If Indra was of the summer – Fritheer – then this red woman must have been of the thayrte. For he could not understand how one’s eyes could so closely resemble the color of mossy waters on a warm day.
 
The question hung in the air for a moment before she asked for forgiveness. Tadec cast a ghostly little smile before parting his lips to speak. “This one is called Tadec,” he told her in Hedgerow, hoping that she might understand. He had not fully grasped her inquiry had required specifics to his blood instead of his name. She seemed kindly, though shattered in a way that he could not comprehend. “Why does the wolf cry?”