I backed into the shadows of the bushes, kneeling to run my fingers through the damp grass. My own magic rose around me, the taste of copper and cut grass hanging in the air until the spell caught hold with an almost-audible "click." A bolt of pain shot through my temples. Changeling magic has limits, and those limits make themselves clear when you try to go too far. I’d mixed a marsh water charm, spun a human disguise, and now I was casting a don’t-look-here on myself. Put it all together, and it spelled "too far."
Our heroine herself: the sweetness of newly-cut grass mingled with the bloody sharpness of copper, a changeling blend.
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