There were few things in the world that made Caiaphas flighty and one of them was thunder -- particularly, lightning. She had witnessed once what lightning did to an animal and the brutal memory was all she could think about now as she scrambled wildly down the jutting prominence in the hopes of finding suitable shelter.

So preoccupied was she by navigating the uneven crag, she scarcely saw the ragged male until she was nearly upon him -- he crawling upwards, she flying blindly downwards. She froze and a shriek issued forth from her muzzle as the lightning flared around them in a brilliant and coruscating white -- instinctively she cowered and howled and her ugly head fell flat to the rocky slab in temerity.

No sooner had the flash disappeared she tried to artlessly regain her composure, wheeling backwards to assess the rangy and palecloud colored creature. "Up here," She hissed with a motion of her narrow muzzle, pointing in the direction of a small overhang that could easily house two. Without waiting (and quite honestly without caring) she darted off towards the hollowed stone, her little paws skittering as she clawed her way desperately to shelter.

She smothered another gurgling cry as a flare of lightning rocked the sky and sent the world into light; a flare of vivid and blinding white and then the sudden calamitous darkness.

Caiaphas reeled and flew under the overhang, a quivering and terrible mess. The male trailed behind her -- his long stride ground-consuming and lithe. She watched him broodily, unsure of how to interact with him. She was not by nature incredibly outgoing, and when he blinked and shook his silver-tipped body she rose and did the same -- though she stalked out to the perimeter of the crag as not to splatter him.

Once she was satisfied she turned back, feeling slightly cagey in such close proximity. She proffered a bland smile and strove to meet the brilliance of his infernal-gold eyes for a brief second before breaking contact and speaking. "I'm Caiaphas." She started -- and startled as another brutal pang of lightning and the howling crackle of thunder crashed overhead.

The skeletal coywolf lowered her head as another peal thundered overhead -- and in the distance she watched a purple flare ignite across the meridian and in an instant the world was swallowed once more in unremitting darkness. She squinted, her eyes strained on the horizon where the last remaining light had baptized the entire world in a final fit of illuminating white.

The male proffered a name, a name that sounded to be of similar origin in tongue as a coywolf Caiaphas now only dimly recollected -- what language was it she spoke again? Caiaphas rolled the name over in her mind, her expression dark and ruminating.

Meanwhile, the only sound between them was the steady rise of their breath and the drumming fall of rain.

Eventually she spoke again, though this time her voice seemed only a half-venture -- so beguilingly timid it seemed. "What were you doing before the storm?" From the looks of it, Caiaphas could surmise the able-bodied and agile male was alone -- and a brief foray of her nose lead her to believe the male had no recent affiliations.

Out of the corner of her eyes she studied the male, colored of ash and tinder with an immersing gold gaze. He did not look like a pack wolf -- he was too rangy, too composed of lean muscle and unkempt pewter grey fur. Tameless and feral, in a way similar to her.

His explanation, however succinct, was explanation enough. Her wide gaze traced the skyline where in the distance the heavens upheaved with spears of lightning and the clouds snarled overhead dark and heavy with rain.

Wandering -- she would have said that too. "I wanted to crawl to the top of the world." As much as she had grown to love the ocean in the past few weeks, the ocean was flat and deep and impenetrable and no matter what vantage she chose she knew she would never witness its depths in its entirety. At least the upper world was transparent, with its trees and monsters and the moon.

"Have you found yourself a home?" The question was posed innocently enough; while she had no problem extending an invitation into her fold, it seemed like the man was too rough-shod and rawboned to acclimate well to the Nereides.

She watched him secretly, her sly gaze withholding -- and there was no mistaking in his ash-furred countenance the faint gleam of recognition, the small understanding -- that flushed distant across his features. Her words, however muddled, had made sense to him. This was an unheard of practice and Caiaphas' eyes fell fast to the skyline in sudden meekness.

He admitted what she had suspected -- that he was a wolf of his own accord. She tentatively wondered then if she should even bother -- the Nereides would likely not suit him, he was too strong and likely too intelligent to want to concede to a harem of females (some of which Caiaphas believed half-wits). She expelled a sigh and enjoyed for a moment the monosyllabic nature of his response.

"I would say you would be welcome with my pack along the coast -- but men are seen as serfs there. We are short in men, perhaps you''d understand why." A wicked flash lit her features in dry humor. "But there is also the Bay, which houses many wolves. Ouroboros Spine is not far from here either -- and they need able bodies. Are you looking at all for a place to settle among your kind, Kierkegaard? Or does the dust of a wanderer suit you?"

She found it sad, in a way, that Kierkegaard stayed his course. It was an admirable thing to be a loner, and she was not sad that he was the way he was. It was not a sadness for him, nor of him, that stirred her -- but simply a sadness that all lone wolves knew of and could not flee from. The hardships that consumed them -- the simple mistakes that often cost them their lives. These were the things all lone wolves struggled with; it was the cost of staying feral and isolated from the calamitous ringing of the inner world.

He politely deferred her half-composed invitation, as she suspected he would. During his silence she watched him unobtrusively, suspecting he was likely composing a manner in which to decline her without insult. But his response was a response she had anticipated and it showed in the brief and breezy smile that played and passed across her lips in understanding. ""I have not yet endured a winter here. But it would do you well to find a pack for shelter if you stay."

She lowered her muzzle and for a moment sought the brilliance of his own gaze -- but the impart was passing. "To my knowledge Ouroboros Spine may be your best fit -- but if you do not align yourself by snowfall you may find me on the strand. For a short while, I can share my cache with you. But you must not stay long." She knew however, if it came to that, Kierkegaard would likely not overstay his welcome -- he was too well molded for life in the hinterland. She knew moreover that it was not the wilderness that defined wolves like the two of them, but rather, the feral wilderness in them defined the entire world. In a way she envied him; how she missed the lack of accountability for anything but herself.