Monohan has cautioned me against exploring certain parts of the 'wood during the time of Samhain. He says that the magic of the 'wood acts strangely during this time, and some areas aren't safe.

Indeed, the 'wood is thick with heavy magic, like a presence seeping through the trees and up from the rich earth. Already there are changes. The blackberries have spoiled, an obvious sign that a pookha now lurks about. I've been advised to carry some spare coins, as the pookha can be easily distracted if they are offered to it.

Of course, Samhain is a time of great feasting and celebration as well. I'll be attending the great feast of Samhain in Chestnut Grove in a few weeks time. It is sure to be quite the spectacle, with many strange sheehogue in attendance.

I have noticed that many of the birds in the 'wood have taken a curious interest in me. I find them perched throughout the thick branches of the surrounding trees, observing me every time I exit Monohan's abode.

The druid has noticed this as well, and has told me to pay them no mind. They are the sheeaghan, fey birds sent by the elves to keep me under watch. The elves have little trust in kynney deiney, and are not pleased with my presence here in Tanglewood.

But Monohan once resided amongst the kynney deiney too, and he assures me that I am perfectly safe to travel throughout the 'wood as I see fit, so long as I am careful not to intrude into a few particular areas, and to keep a watchful eye out for sprites and their tricks.

In the meantime, I have begun to grow comforted by the presence of the sheeaghan. I consider them companions, through a mutual respect for one another. Of course, this could all just be silly notion in my head, but I do enjoy waking to the call of the mourning dove and enjoying a cup of blackberry tea as the sun slowly rises over the treetops, highlighting the sheeaghan perched in the branches.

Blackberry tea is the drink of choice for many of the sheehogue in Tanglewood. But this is no ordinary tea. Made from a variety of herbs and spices and plump, ripe blackberries, the scent of the tea brewing over a fire instills the air with a heavenly, comforting aroma.

Served in wooden mugs, the rising steam is enough to calm jittery nerves, yet one sip of the marvelous elixir is enough to invigorate you. A mild sweetness accompanied by pungent spices and earthy undertones, the tea instantly livens your senses and instills within you the energy of a child.

When accompanied by Bairtlemead Muffingrow's delicious muffins, which hold a certain magic all their own, there simply isn't a better feast to be had.

Once, the sprites were only mischievous little creatures, capable of causing a little mayhem but never inflicting harm. After the arrival of the Lost Fey and the departure of Alastar, their demeanor soon changed.

Once, happy feasts in which Ailil, King of the sprites, shared food and music with Cox, King of the brownies, were joyous occasions in the Tanglewood. Those times are no more, and war between Ailil and Cox has tainted the 'wood.

The sprites now reside in the Below, for no tree will allow them to make a home within the trunks. They use their magic and their trickery to capture the unwary.

The forest was radiant; bright beams of sunlight trickled through the leaves to kiss the ground below, and cast a lustrous glow about the forest. The very air seemed to shimmer excitedly and the leaves and the grass sparkled with fresh morning dew. The twittering of woodland birds was musical, and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees and tickling my hair was a soothing, comforting whisper.

I could taste the very essence of the forest on my tongue, a morning mist of earthy flavor. The aroma of the woods was fresh and primal; I could sense the richness of the deep earth beneath my feet, and the scent of pine was seductively inviting, mingling with subtler notes of clover and sweet honeysuckle, orange blossoms and wild berries.

My ears were wide open to the welcoming song of the birds hidden within the surrounding trees. The woods were lush with color; a bold array of greens, majestically strong browns, the effervescent glow of sunlight glancing off patches of delicate, golden-white flowers.

The forest was alive.