The Tangle the sacred smoke of juniper, and mugwort purifies the air

who was this indeed.
his eyes were like nothing she had seen before. he was a trickle of moonsilver against the haunting red of his pelt; so like mireille in many ways! he was strong and solidly built, and he held things that heda could not parse.
she heated from the bridge of her nose across her shoulderblades and shyly turned her nose right into witch.
in the next she'd looked back, making herself approach the boy.
brain went to manual. druid made the question while heda hung near her, quiet but friendly, looking at the details of the hanging objects and trying, hard, not to look at the one holding them.
she felt like magma.
"i'm heda," she said. damn. her sister had already said that. unhelpful once more.