I know a bank where wild thyme grows

And wet rose she from the lake And fast and fleet went she One half the form of a maiden fair With a jet-black mare's body And loud long and shrill he blew Till his steed was by his side High overhead the gray hawk flew And swiftly he did ride Saying Course well me brindled hound And fetch me the jet-black mare Stoop and strike me good gray hawk And bring me the maiden fair She said Pray sheath thy silvery sword Lay down thy rowan shield For I see by the briny blood that flows You've been wounded in the field

And she stood in a gown of a velvet blue Bound round with a silver chain And she's kissed his pale lips once and twice And three times round again And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod Full fast in her arms he lay And he has risen hale and sound With the sun high in the day She said Ride with your brindled hound at heel And your good gray hawk in hand There's none can harm the knight who's lain With the Witch of the Westmoreland

Sophie is half Sidhe (Pooka) and half human, a hedge witch with a unique ability of temporarily granting invulnerability to someone by, um, well, you'd have to work really hard to convince her. She doesn't care for her father's "family," but that doesn't stop them from making pests of themselves. She was raised by her grandmother, a sorceress of some renown, and is still waiting to come fully into her Namer power. For now she can talk to inanimate objects and bring them to life or convince the flora itself to do her bidding. She lives with a brace of Irish wolfhounds, Cormac and Dana, and a raven that goes by Brannon.