I think I thought I saw you try

I am my mother's child, I'll love you till my breathing stops
I'll love you till you call the cops on me

She followed her guide with eager footsteps, skipping, leaping, bounding because she could, full of energy, vim, and vigor, much like a sprite, much like a fey, much like some twisted, unleashed heathen. Fangorn was already distracted and deterred by Isuma, but they all made their way along, no matter if by play or by fervent, vehement hunting intentions; aspirations of the wild and savage, regardless. She hummed beneath her breath, a tune by her sister, sometimes concocted between bulbs of thistles and meadows upon meadows of wildflowers, no words or stanzas to it, but the lines there all the same; swinging her arms back and forth, gilded gaze flickering down upon the fox, and then along the canopies, intertwining back and forth in order to catch movement and motion made by wolves. Instead – they received gourds. “Oh dear,” she grimaced as they came closer, because before Fangorn she would’ve easily annihilated all of them without batting an eye – kicking them aside, grabbing hold and throwing them into the woods; she’d once even made a game of it, pretending they were targets and missiles. But after gaining her little vampire pumpkin, she had a new respect for the adept flora and fauna (who somehow managed to survive when the rest of the world seemed intent on destroying them), even if they were eager to bite at her ankles. She gently pushed one away with her foot, while Fangorn advanced. There were some hisses and growls insinuated from his rapacious mouth, fangs glistening, but she couldn’t understand a word of the apparent conversation. Perhaps he was asking them to leave? Perhaps he was imploring them to go elsewhere? Perhaps he was informing them that they were of no threat to the tiny demons, and really, were after much larger prey? M e l i t a But in our darkest hours, I stumbled on a secret power I'll find a way to be without you, babe