The shape of the rabbit’s warren was clear to her now, the burrows curving beneath the earth. An owl slept inside his tree fifty yards to the east. She held the pendant, a perfect curve in her palm.
“All druids can adapt their forms, Iellieth, depending on their connection to the natural world and personal preferences.” Yvayne raised her eyes and ran her fingers along her three-pronged antlers. “But there was an ancient sect of druids who were shapeshifters. Their entire bodies could transform. They wouldn’t simply bear the headdress of an elk but become an elk themselves.”
A few legends she and Katarina had read spoke of shapeshifters, but they usually morphed their form into that of another person rather than an animal. The strength of the elk, the weight of mighty antlers, settled ont
