“Standing by the rushes, the wind whipping her hair, she strained her ears for the noise that had lured her from the house. It surely wasn’t a water bird, with their mournful warbling, or a fisher cat, whose scream could curdle cream. What, then, had it been? Another patrol? Didn’t they come by often enough? Always sneaking, always spying, checking on her, seeing if she would cave and start levitating spoons. Yet, even they caused more commotion than a single yowl. No, more than that. It resembled howling, yes, but there had been speech there as well. She was certain of it.” – Emily Kinney