Ah, the holidays.
A time when families gather.
Or at least Hecate’s family gathers.
It’s been a while since we’ve seen the whole family together.
Cause for celebration, this. There are idiots…I mean, hunters…in the woods. The Old Ones come nightly for shelter. When we don’t see one for a while, we wonder.
The Ways of The Wild are not our ways. If we are to survive, we must adapt, not they. They evolve along ancient patterns and lines.
Not so us. If we still evolve, it is to strengthen our thumbs for TXTing, perhaps.
But here, all are safe.
Would that that be the case for all souls this holiday.
That is our wish.
And even though some are hunted, The Old Ones tell us it is their wish for us, as well.