My brothers crow in the morning, I guard your roof, night and day. Round and round I'm spinning, the wind blows, I point the way.

Paintings of rodents made out of thick flammable liquids? I don't think any of those are right!

Sometimes a pair of peepers, sometimes a type of nut, is a popular remedy when used with witches.

You see me upon the ocean high, with white horses I ride. Foundations plunge down to the depths beneath but not to anchor me.

I arrive without footsteps, lace windows in silver veins, turn puddles into mirrors and lakes into locked doors. I bite without teeth, preserve without mercy, and vanish when kissed by fire.