With a cocky sway to her step the lithe Siren strode towards the forest, her jaws clutched tight around the full swell of a seal's bloated and dark kidney. It was a most precious meal she coveted -- and stealing away from her subordinates, she sought to dine alone.

Once sufficient distance was placed between her and the thrumming sea, she turned twice around a leviathan sequoia -- with an agile leap she fell between two outstretched roots and disappeared entirely from view. There, nestled between the tree's fold the waif ravenously set to work.

No sooner had the slender waif felt herself isolated enough to enjoy her meal, there sounded above the distinct ruffle of feathers. She looked upwards slowly -- the way a small child might realize a monster under the bed -- and quite explicitly she could feel the fur rising coarse along her spiny neck. With both alarm and outrage darkening her features, the waif sprung back like a started cat -- her hackles bristling fiercely as the dark-plumed form of a bird flew past her.

Regrettably, her second instinct was to shriek -- a rejoinder to the bird's cackle that was at once both nauseatingly high pitched and offensive. Perhaps more regrettable was the fact that in order to shriek, one's jaws had to part... It was with horror shading her features that she watched her visceral prize fall to the ground in rubbery bounces.

wide eyed with the folly of her actions, Caiaphas froze -- her head held stiffly as her ears flapped and rotated wildly atop her narrow skull. The bird had alighted to the canopy beyond -- the remainder of his presence the upturned dust-motes and disturbed shubbery.

She thought herself safe from any further onslaught -- with a huff that announced her displeasure with his existence she strode back towards her abandoned meal, saliva pooling hungrily in the corners of her jowls. She was just about to seize the delicacy between her slavering jaws when behind her the bird barreled like a demon spat from a cannon -- already she felt herself hating this stupid shit of a bird.

She felt the sting of his beaked nip upon her rump -- with a howl she whirled upon him to find him gone, fluttering like a shade on the breeze out of her reach. She lept into the air wildly, jaws snapping in his wake -- only to find when she landed that the featherbrained dingus had made off with her prized meal.

The injustice and the indignities of the world consumed her -- with great vitriol she unleashed all manner of profanities into the wind as if they had the power to stay Bartok's wings and call him plummeting to the earth.

It was with immense hatred that Caiaphas stalked the bird's winging flight above the tree-line -- as if hoping against hope the fueled abhorrence in her gaze would thrust towards him in the manner of a spear and fell him. If only looks could kill.

It appeared the god(desses) had other plans in mind that day for her purloined supper -- for no sooner was she steadying herself to denounce her loss, she was overcome with joy to see the bird flipped in the wind like a chew-toy -- his clutch on her spongy fete eviscerated. With a victorious crow she lunged after the thing onto the open strand, a yawp of condescending joy evinced from her muzzle as she seized the pulpous meat in her jaws and swallowed it entire.

With a gulp the meal the two had vied over was gone -- and instantly, Caiaphas was flush with nausea. It had truly been too big an entree to swallow entire -- fitfully she lowered upon her stomach and dropped her head to mitigate the wave of nausea that overcame her.

She was too preoccupied feeling sorry for herself to realize the dumb bird had come back -- this time toting more of her pack's limited meat. As his talons raked her bare rump she shrieked aloud in both a yelp and a growl -- though it was silenced quickly by a rush of hot and reedy vomit.

The pile she had upchucked sat in the snow and steamed -- with a doleful gaze Caiaphas turned back to the flitting bird, her expression contorted by bile and distaste alike. "And you're like my vomit.. only uglier." If she could have, she would have taken a rank dump too -- but she was feeling much too sorry for herself to entertain the idea of hunching over.

Caiaphas' jaws parted, if only to soften the sour bile that had stung her tongue. She scowled as the bird flew upwards, shrieking scurilities into the blanching wind. She didn't really care for his repetitive insults, yet she had no rejoinder.

She eyed the pile mournfully, and slowly licked her lips. It was such a waste of a kidney. As the black-fringed bird fluttered overhead she hunched downwards, her gaze tracking his trajectory along the wind. Sneakily, she tried to scoff down the portion she had already expelled from her body -- only to find that it was equally unpleasant going down as it was going up the first time.

With a hiccup, she sat backwards -- hoping the sudden motion would allay her queasiness. Yet the notion was unproductive -- and once more Caiaphas regurgitated the slimy and vomit-covered kidney into the frozen sand.

The raven's scolding was met with a scathing look as Caiaphas recovered from her unfortunate decision. She felt far queasier than she had in a long time -- hunched and rocking, it was all she could do to prevent more spewage from violently forcing its way onto the beach.

So concerned was she for her welfare that the imp did not see the raven's departure -- she only heard the flutter of his wings as he flew past. Mournfully she issued a piteous whine into her paws and elected to curl into a fetal position, shivering violently as she felt another wave of vomit threaten to surge through her.

The entire of her body heaved as she silenced her stomach's discontent -- in a pathetic heap she curled, her head held between two slender paws. She heard the raven's return and her ears instantly pinned to her bony skull in apprehension; it was all she could do to sit straight upright and crow aloud as she felt his weight bop along her arched spine. Her eyes practically bulged with indignity as she felt him hop along her backside and land atop her lowered head.

Maybe if she played dead he would go away -- with a groan she slumped to the ground and her tongue lolled out limply. She even went so far as to flutter her eyes dramatically before she heaved a colossal sigh and slumped to the ground.

Her masquerade lacked longevity, for the acrid sting of peppermint caused her already-sensitive eyes to well with tears. Recoiling, the waif scuttled backwards and peered at the bird incautiously, her expression contorted by the harsh sting of the peppermint's fragrance. "Are you trying to kill me?" She hissed, swatting away his remedy before another hiccup of fowl bile caused her to lurch forwards without coordination. This caused her to reconsider her rejection, though true to her bullish nature she was not yet ready to redact her dismissal of the bird's antidote.

the waif watched in suspicion as the haggard bird tried to convince her the goodwill behind his efforts -- though she remarked quite clearly that the noises he made when he engulfed the plants were anything but appetizing.

But he hadn't died -- at least not yet. She squinted, waiting for any croaking noise to suggest he was about to die -- likely this was a fruitless endeavor, as every noise he made sounded not unlike the chatter of death.

She waited several moments, a paw held daintily in the air. Once a sufficient amount of time had passed in which she surmised was appropriate for poison to do its bidding she inched forwards on her stomach, crawling towards the small heap the bird had bundled. She was not judicious in which stalk she ate - with the voracity of a dog she mowed down on the plant, stiff branch and all.

Caiaphas felt the cold embrace of horror consume her as she watched the bird slump -- she was either too sickly or too stupid to know it was a ploy (or maybe he was just that brilliant an enactor) -- and with a yelp she started to hack, and hack, and hack -- trying her best to encourage what she had just hustled into her craw back upwards.

The bird, upon its back in a convincing display of death's descent, was eyed with fueled animosity. It then occurred to her that the clacking avian was not the wittiest if he too had indulged in the poisonous plant .. Though she was still sure he was dead, this did not discourage the roar of fury that bubbled in her throat as she flew upon him -- if she was going to die in the next few moments, she better die whilst exacting her anger upon the bird's corpse.

The scurvish waif's rage did froth over -- as she envisioned her last minutes on earth it only further flared her indignity -- in such that she was swift to clamp down on her tormenter's limp body. What damage she could to his offensive corpse before she perished -- what little vengeance she could exact before death took ahold of her -- it would be enough to ease her transition into the afterlife.

Yet it appeared her tormenter was not dead, and upon clutching his pinions in her jaws she was promptly assuaged by flapping feathers and shrieks. She had every intention of killing him then and now -- every fiber of her frame lustily wished to splash his (sparse) brain-matter upon the uncomprehending sand -- and it was unfortunate that at that particular moment her nausea returned with newfound gusto.

With a dry heave Caiaphas lurched forwards and spewed wet remnants of her last meal onto the earth, the slime of which slicked her muzzle and shot forth like rotted phlegm on the sand. It was gruesome noise that accompanied her hurling -- and no sooner had she involuntarily parted her jaws did she allow her aggressor means of escape -- between fits of hiccups and strings of ropy drool she watched him frantically ascend to the sky.

Underwhelmed by the relentless disquiet that humbled her, Caiaphas slunk into a dejected heap once the bird had pried itself free of her (feeble) grasp.

It wasn't evident if it was digestive upset that colored her muzzle or if it was scorn, yet all the same the slender coywolf watched the winged pestilence as it flitted through the treetops, carried aloft by a buoyant and generous briny wind.

She looked to her paws, which still had the remnants of her bile upon them. She withdrew a deep breath and rose, carrying herself unsteadily towards the shoreline. Her distraught fur needed a bath in the most urgent fashion -- with the practiced ease of a coastal wolf the imp slid into the saltwater, a vague silhouette in the stormy sea.