Bearclaw Valley my moon, oh my moon

the boy's laughter was beginning to carry on the wind, costing mona her theatrically dedicated sense of composure. the girl's eyes lit, her cheeks puffing with hiccupping giggles she forced herself to swallow. staggering in a meandering fashion toward the tree beneath which lucas had ensconced himself, mona sighed with faux aggravation.
"well, looks like i was wrong." another sigh, this one cutting through the catches of snorting, childish laughter that threatened to make the scarlet mayfair like actually lose it this time. "guess i can't use just magick to find my friends!"
unable to help herself, the druid-girl paced round to where her young charge resembled the white flag of a doe among the roots of the tree. "well? what's this? is it some sort of mushroom?" she asked loudly of no one in particular.