Noctisardor Bypass Life, Death, Religion, Survival

Raised voices and snarls pulled Fiona away from her work: adding more of the reeds from the hollow to her tincture. She made sure they were secured again with the large stone, then took off toward sounds of the scuffle.

"—stops now! I want you out! Get out!" were the words Fiona was finally able to discern from the bristling Druid. It was a heightened form of what she had seen the other day on the cliff. Something in Druid's head was not right, and there was no way in hell Fiona was about to step between the Den Mother's teeth and the guard-dog. Instead, she flattened herself to the ground on the sidelines, watching. The witch's game was that of survival, self-preservation, above all else. If she was dead, she was of no use to anyone. She might, however, learn a thing or two about one (or both) of the leaders in seeing them interact.

And so she remained quiet, still, and a neutral observing party. Her mismatched eyes glancing back and forth between the dueling parents. Whatever the outcome, Fiona suspected it would not be a pretty one.