Circe had decided to inspect High Striker. Sure, the plans for her coronation was months away but that wasn't the only reason to check it.


It was meant to be a defensive maze, in principle, so she should check things out. Rearranging the barriers was also a good thing to do on occasion.


As Circe did so she stopped upon a tingling sense. This led her to a door. A door that reacted with her Mantle. There was a Hedge Gate here? Since when?!


The Summer was wary as can be expected upon such a discovery. Investigation should be done but she'd not go unprepared. So she had to retrieve some things from her car.


Whence she returned, the Summer Queen was ready for battle. She'd her vest and a leather jacket. Her pistol and a crowbar. And a head strap flashlight she'd bought for the tunnel trip, keep her hands free and all that. Prepared, the Queen finds the door opens to her Mantle without question.


The kick was probably not needed, but a Summer thing to do.


What was the Trod within? Not a Trod at all. It was small but the size was too well defined to be a Trod. Circe wasn't a genius nor an occultist. But she was familiar with what kind of space this was. For she had one such space of her own, all to herself courtesy of a friend.


This was a Hollow. A space of blackened, scorched dirt with a border of burnt up thorns within the Hedge. Certainly it may look like a recent slash and burn operation but the Summer elf knew a Hollow when she felt one. And this one? Felt like Summer.


Okay. That means someone in her court took initiative to start a Court Hollow without telling her. Anger at such disregard for her rank boiled up with her Mantle. Briefly at any rate, Circe wasn't a stickler for traditional authority. Another thought occurred to her. This was such a basic Hollow. Bare bones at best. Was this perhaps only the start?


Or was it meant to be more by the time of the Summer Coronation? A surprise? Well, spoiler alert if that was the case.


Blue lips let out a long sigh as her burning Mantle dials down. Yes it was a start for sure. But it wasn't even remotely secure.


She'd have to fix that. And then find out who made it. And maybe set up some communication protocols. Poor communication, death, yadda yadda, avoid that, such and such, blah blah blah.


"Wait a minute," Circe pauses, "Do all my Summers even have phones?" Circe searched her jacket and found a notepad and pen. She writes down this important insight: if Summers not have phones, get them burners.