Stavanger Bay i'm a traitor to your flesh, in a stone

it was not often the coywolf was greeted by two, and even less often was it that one of the two was a thing caiaphas immediately recognized as not-entirely-wolf. curiously (and quite unashamedly) the siren grazed her eyes over doe's slender features, resting on the trounced tip of one floppy and somewhat obscenely felled ear. to caiaphas, the half-upright ear seemed a permanent gesture of unbalance. perhaps to doe and lagertha, caiaphas' head seemed a perpetual stain of malice.

while neither of the wolves looked outright aggressive, caiaphas was not about to let her guard down. she had survived this long being coy and deceitful -- and if she had any say in it, would survive a bit longer. her gaze became flinty as the pale-washed wolf spoke -- skoll? did she say skoll? for a minute caiaphas thought the wolf was speaking of her grandfather -- but how did she know of him?

she concluded, after a little reel of clear confusion, that lagertha had issued some sort of salutation. in a gesture of (perhaps feigned) friendliness, the salted wretch sat on her gamine haunches as if disarmed. "i know what hail is, and even ave -- but what is 'skol'? caiaphas slanted her sharp-faced muzzle downward, peering expectantly at lagertha for some sort of explanation.