Sun Mote Copse Valley made of mirrors.

After a day or two to cool down, Reyes was feeling much better. He'd more or less blocked out the entire confrontation with Niamh and put himself to work; running patrols of the borders was difficult at first but he could recall some of the routes off by heart now, and when his shifts ended he would go off to prowl in the green for something to snack on.

Right this second he was on the tail-end of a hunt. A thin hare hung from his muzzle, head limp and smacking the earth every other stride, its neck broken. The boy was still breathing pretty heavily after the exertion, his sides buffeting in and out, his nose whistling with each breath.