Blackfeather Woods to hear the softly spoken magic spell

He flowed to her side and waited there, watching as wolf after wolf came from the darkness of the trees to meet them; the giggling of his beloved was strange at first but soon Titmouse couldn't hear the occasional sound, growing accustomed to it in the manner that a cat might. It was there, but it didn't matter. He watched as Ramsay joined them — they shared a glance, to which Titmouse's expression remained empty — and then Maegi was speaking. Her voice took up the space between the wolves and there was nothing else; all that the ghost could do was listen in silence, agreeing with everything, basking in the confidence that his beloved gave off. Here was where he was meant to be; beside her, home within the wood.