Ankyra Sound i took it to the right man

@Alarian

it was cold and stormy when caiaphas got back to the grotto, her fur stiff with salt and a dead crab caught in her jaws. she had spent the morning canvassing the sound; it was her great and eminent displeasure to learn a pack resided on the cliffs above.

doubtless, they likely could see any ankyrian resident from their vantage, but caiaphas had the last laugh -- for there was no accessible way down from the cliffs, and any wolf stupid enough to try would surely have a date with death.

rather than enter the grotto, caiaphas hung around the rim - she settled into the sand and started to pluck from the crab's body each leg with rapacious glee.

He hated winter.
Cold was the bane of the slim boy’s life-- and now he was cold and soaked, dripping salty sea water into the already-saturated sand as he walked. One misstep had sent him tumbling from the slippery rocks he was climbing, and thankfully he was not too far up, but he spared no thought for that small mercy now. He was busy with his irritation and indignance at what had transpired, shaking out his coat and cursing under his breath.
The day was unforgiving. A storm raged overhead, battering the already-dreary area with harsh winds and pelting rain. The boy ducked his head, ears flattened against the onslaught.
Alarian didn't even see the other wolf until he was almost upon her. The first thing he saw was twin yellow flames-- no, those were her eyes. He tilted his head, taking a step back.
Well, you're somethin’ else. The boy's tone was oddly fond, his voice soft and feminine. He took notice of the crab, and quickly added: I’m not after anythin’ of yours. Looks like it’d be less trouble to catch my own crab anyway. He finished the sentence with a lopsided grin, drawing one paw over his face to wipe away the rain that had soaked the fur around his eyes.

she watched as a waterflogged wretch approached her, her expression one of faint misgiving. the sound was not hers anymore - she lacked the firepower to chase all manner of life away -- all the same, her hackles lifted instinctively in defense and her gaze took on a most iniquitous glare. it would always be in her nature to protect this place, even if she had no claim to it any longer.

caiaphas was not about to let her guard down around a stranger -- particularly while she had food -- with a scowl and a snatch of her little paws she tucked the crab's corpse underneath her thin chest and regarded her new companion with a cold stare. he was not a wolf she recognized, nor did he carry any scent that could possibly align or malign him. she propped on her thin elbows and regarded the scar that cut cleanly across his muzzle. his quip, while clever, was not rewarded by any discernible sign of amusement -- instead the sylph spoke: "what'd you do to earn that scar?"

The other wolf's hostility did little to dampen Alarian's friendliness-- when she questioned him, in fact, he took it as a good thing and seemed a little brighter for it. He still kept a slight distance, though, because he didn't want to scare her off (because in his mind, that was the worst that could happen, though he fully knew the possibility of being attacked).
My father did that! He informed her cheerily. Joke's on him though, I stole his head. Hid it in a tree. The boy seemed equally amused and proud regarding his own actions, as if it was a well-played prank.
Are you an ocean witch? Alarian wondered after a beat, swept up too quickly by the racing current of his own strangely twisted thoughts to stay on one topic for long. He sounded as if he thought the idea was rather enchanting. Your eyes look like magic.
The last sentence was added by way of explanation, as if her striking eyes were sure proof that she was somehow other.

the siren queen's query seemed to bring out a strange pride in the male -- caiaphas regarded him as coldly as ever, remaining unimpressed by the sudden shift in demeanor. he had only indirectly answered her question and she turned her thin muzzle upon him with a grimness that was most inhospitable. "not who -- what. as in, what precipitated such an ugly scar? your incessant mouth?" an ugly jest, perhaps -- but caiaphas was nothing but ugly.

outwardly she remained nonplussed by the interesting tidbit, though inwardly she did stifle a small snort -- she did not find the male's actions strange. she may have done the same to tuwawi's skull, could she ever obtain it -- only, instead of a tree she would have seen to it that it was hurled in the darkest, most tepid corner of the grotto's depths. where it would never be chanced upon, nor the sun ever witness it -- where it would sink and rot into the salted stone and be forgotten.

she could think of no more deserving a fate for the firebrand that had stolen her son.

she flashed him another wicked gaze as he mentioned her eyes -- he was forthcoming in a way she was not used to. most wolves seemed cowed by her presence, or at the very least, had the good sense to not engage her. "in a past life." she admitted, thinking back on her duties in her matriarchal home.

The boy was quiet for a moment, trying to decide what the best answer really was; should he go to the effort of explaining fully? No-- the sea witch seemed displeased with him, with his presence, and suddenly he very much wanted to leave. He really didn't want to risk being cursed or something, if that was what sea witches did. This one seemed like she might.
I attacked him. Alarian responded simply-- it was true enough. The boy shifted, glanced around, and decided it was time to make his exit. Well, I'll leave you to your meal, uh, ma'am. That was what you called a witch, right?
With that the boy left, no doubt to either wander aimlessly or fixate on something insignificant and arbitrary for an unhealthy period of time.