Sleepy Fox Hollow Sun setting on the brink

fine by me!

Her routine became rote. She ate, she drank the tincture, the roamed the borders, and she chatted idly to @Prowler as if she could actually understand her. The raccoon did not seem to mind, and she certainly appreciated the scraps Fiona threw her on occasion for retrieving this, that, or the other. The hollow is hollow, she mused to the masked creature who plodded along beside her. The hollow is hollow, and we're in it. But if we're in it, is it really hollow? she asked. Prowler looked at her, but gave no verbal response.

When she heard Anselm's voice, Fiona's ears perked up. She wasn't sure whether to be happy or annoyed, excited or worried what he might do next. In reality, she had begun to suspect he had finally figured out what his problem was and had run off into the sunset with Etienne. That would have tracked, considering Anselm had never seemed to give a hoot about anyone else.

The call had been close, and she heard his footsteps before she could properly hide Prowler, who now took a defensive position beneath the witch's belly.

You're back, she said, the smallest hint of a question wrapped into the words.