Into this world we’re thrown

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, from the mouths of babes... "An’ how do yer know yer not th’ one tallkin’ funny, huh?" She asked, a brow raised archly. "Where I come from, everyone talks like me." There may have been common words, but Matilda’s mother had a habit of running her words together and dropping the starts and ends of her words, when she chose to speak. After all, words were nothing but wind. Actions were what mattered to Morganna Archer. She expected her children to act similarly.

He had a lot of questions, especially about fairy rings. "Th’ ring is a doorway, an’ they can be any size. Safest bet is ter not take food offered by strangers, an’ never give ‘em yer full name. The realm th’ fae live in is other. Some say it’s the most marvelous place with endless parties and the most beautiful wolves yer ever saw, others say it’s dark an’ terrible, full o’ ugly little creatures that jus’ want ter eat yer. But there aren’t many that have ever made it back ter tell th’ truth o’ it, so I suggest yer always play it safe. Best not ter meddle in what we don’t understand."

As the conversation turned back to the yeth hound she considered reclining, then thought better of it again. She was surprised an adult hadn’t yet arrived to run her off or demand a blood price for lingering so long. Instead, she rose to her feet, deciding this one would probably be a passing tale. "The Yeth hound is an ancient an’ lonely beast. He prowls th’ woods at night..." as if on cue, the wind blew between the trees, carrying an almost mournful howl along with it, (though it was only wind). "Lookin’ fer cubs tha’ aren’t in their dens. He calls them to him with a sad an’ lonely song, an’ then ‘e takes them." Her voice was solemn, "Sometimes th’ bodies are found... frozen, or drowned... or worse. My own mother lost a sister ter’im." Her eyes were washed out in the moonlight, distant. "Some say ‘e looks like a big black wolf, with eyes that shine in the dark like small moons..." She lazily shifted her weight from one foot and then to the other. Her head dipping and stance becoming more predatory in the dark. "Some say he is a she..." With a growl lacing her final words she pounced towards the child, a dangerous look on her face, though to an observing adult there would be visible mirth in her stance rather than aggression. Her teeth snapped in the air over his head as she made her escape through the underbrush. Let him think he had encountered a monster tonight. Perhaps he’d be more inclined to stay where he aught, for a little bit longer at least.

"speech".