The Sentinels revenge is in the creator's hands

maybe a @Ford?

donnelaith.
he still heard his mother's soft voice echoing in his head on nights such as these, when he had roved too far from his brethren and found himself contemplative. we buried him in a fairy-ring — soft, deirdre's whisper.
but surely this place was not it. and yet the touch of the ruined land beneath his paws grounded velen in a way he had not felt upon the sea. an ashen charnel house, with dead twigs sifting down from above with each movement of the cold nightwind. lasher taltos mayfair. 
and somewhere in the wreckage of the old druid's pack his body lay still, ivoried bones by now. velen passed his tongue across suddenly dry lips, his burnt-gold ears tipped forward. discomfort; he glanced back abruptly over one thickfurred shoulder, as if to assure himself the sea remained.