There was a woof of intensifying temperature, but it was no longer one of heat. Conversely, as the black flames rolled reached higher, a coldness had descended upon it.
"So be it..."
She raised a hand of her own to his forehead, though did not touch. A gesture was sufficient and the imprint of a location, time and a likeness of Fern were mentally conferred. Enough to grant recognition. And enough, too, to communicate the girl had a sense of power to her, beyond her physical form.
"Be as the fist to her glove." Then, pausing, Elfleda's expression darkened. There was a sudden impulse to impart more. "But do not assume the hunter knows nothing of hardship. Rhiannon, too, has her part to play."
Where the cadaver had been snatched into oblivion, its mangled, half-digested remains bubbled up from the ground, as though being rejected by a pit of tar.
"Meat for the grinder," Elfleda cheerily observed, glancing back as the black fire, itself, began to consume her in its icy tendrils. Of her, there would be nothing left behind. A different way of passing from one realm to another. "Make sure it remains pleased."