Fox's Glade be cunning, and full of tricks

when the intensity of his gaze met her own, mona knew she could not be sure if tadec was real — yes, the darkness of his flame-edged self seemed to her eyes tangible, but he was without age. her mother had told her of ghosts and demons and the spirits worshipped by lasher; mona knew within her own veins coursed a legacy that even she did not understand.
the fox — homba — was all but forgotten as the druid-child's breath hitched in her throat and a shiver ran the length of her scarletfurred body. "i ran away because something in me was different," the girl revealed in a tumbling whisper, both utterly compelled and immolated by the knowingness of tadec's burning gaze. "teach me to be magick; teach me to find the homba, please," mona whispered to the crow, transfixed in a stasis that knew no time.