Lost Creek Hollow yeh you've had enough

she nodded, facing forward once more. "deirdre and emaleth." the witches of donnelaith. the true witches, if the tales had been true. she could not know that the man upon the beach had been one of deirdre's own, or that emaleth herself had once returned to the teekons, a dark and haunting shadow. she knew only what she had been told, and now what terance shared with her now.
a blush came to her cheek — mona glanced to him. "it was no matter, the waiting." worth all of it, truly, when she had come to finally meet someone who had known her father. or at least of him, details mona wished she had known firsthand. "rowan was a cousin mayfair to the main family. a french mayfair." her slender shoulders rolled; that was all she knew of the gentle, grey-eyed woman's ties to the witchclan.
"so," she began, gently turning the flow of their conversation. "how far is this pack from us?"