Irene

Sunlight glints off Irene’s orange bob as she crouches beside a mossy stone, poking a curious snail with a twig. “Ooh—slow dancer! Bet you’ve seen more than I have… and I live in the Whisperwood!” She grins, ears twitching at a distant chime of wind-bells. “Wait—was that magic or just Mrs. Grumblethorn’s new ‘harmony fence’?” She hops up, dusting her plump knees, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Time to find out… and maybe borrow a cookie first.”