Fox's Glade be cunning, and full of tricks

The breath that fell from her lips still carried the weight of her worries and strife, but she was trying. Even he could see the effort that was made to bolster the strength within her. After a moment, she had agreed to lead him to the magic wood, and Tadec found himself so stricken with delight that his nimble frame seemed to jitter before her. The dark coal of his tail came to life in a twittering motion that managed to climb upward and offer a shimmy of his hips. As she fell into her own pace, he moved behind her with a low head and a curious, watchful stare on her scarlet coat. Tadec was inspired by the number of wolves who had seemingly been touched by Frith; many of them had seemed to hold the very rays of the sun in the thick hairs on their backs. He, of course, belonged to Inlé and the moon, but his mother had always told him that there was a piece of him that had been graced by Frith and that it showed in the embers of his eyes and the russet hairs of his shoulders. The nimble moonlighter knew that he would never carry the same golden radiance as Mona or Indra, but he was fortunate to know them.
 
The mystic mentioned the spirit of a fox. Tadec’s lengthy ears drew forward at the word and he found himself to be entirely enthralled with the prospect of such a thing. “Homba,” he spoke in his native tongue and his pace quickened. There was a breath of questioning in the single word that had left his lips, as though he were asking for her to elaborate on the spirit that she spoke of. “Mona summon homba?” the moonlighter then inquired to her, clearly lost in the prospect that had been presented to him. Tadec imagined that if she were truly a witch of the wood, she would have some control over the matters there; she would be able to call on the spirits around them.