Dragoncrest Cliffs holy fire, blessed waters

It’s kind of like a small sea, Druid replied, without—what was it called?—the tide? There are no waves. The water is very calm and clear. I like to fish there. Her face brightened even more than it already shone. Have I told you that I’m an apprentice fisher?

Now they’d reached a stretch of open grass, crisp with cold and frost. Druid paused to look around properly, admiring the scenery. Of course, her attention always drifted back to Mireille. The way she pranced reminded her of Witch. And the mention of birds made her think of Heda. Her gray tail switched.

You’d like to come home with me today? Druid clarified, warmth in her chest. You’re welcome anytime, of course, she made sure to say, to remove any doubt of such.