Loud were the cries of protest that uprooted the nest -- squalls of horror and protest alike as the slender waif slithered through Gyrfalcon's Keep. About her the birds lit like white flames on the pale horizon, their shrieks of murder and clamor doing nothing to halt her murderous glissade.

One such nest-mother, revolting from her clan's flight, swirled about Caiaphas with heckling fury -- her wicked talons outstretched as she swooped in and out like a frenzied kamikaze. Caiaphas ducked her head enough to manage preventing an eye loss, but it was not enough to avoid the blow entire -- with a yelp her own Caiaphas snapped after the hastily retreating bird, her hackles roused by the encounter.

The cacophony that took to the skies and swarmed them was rife with devastation -- overhead the birds mulled with lamentation, their dab eyes cocked downwards as they circled the skimming wind.

The gyrfalcon's last violation of her pearly hide gave her renewed vigil -- she kept a sentry gaze on them as they whirled about, a pale cloud among the gleaming cirrus.

She was surprised then to see a dark shade advance their sailing colony --his advancement made conspicuous by the guttural war-cry he uttered. Caiaphas watched with delight as the black-plumed fowl scattered the masses, inflicting cruel reprisal with his sprawling talons upon the brazen gyrfalcon that had accosted her.

As the bird flitted off to a nearby tree Caiaphas swung about, watching as the grieving birds milled overhead. Their absence allowed Caiaphas the opportunity to prowl about their sticky nests for their eggs, a task in which she fell upon with slavering anticipation.

As the dark bird flared above her in the manner of a compact fighter jet, Caiaphas slithered through the twigs and spit with her fierce yellow eyes peeled for the bulbous sheen of fresh-laid eggs.

It was not difficult to spot them -- what was proving challenging was carrying them out. Caiaphas, in a stroke of rare brilliance, ate what she could before piling them into a rather ramshackle nest she had dislodged during her climb. They piled precariously atop one another and Caiaphas filled the nest until it was lodged and bent under the weight of each egg.

With great care the waif picked one edge of the nest in her triangular jaws, transporting the bevy with more care than even a mother could muster. A few eggs tragically were thrown overboard along the way, yet once she was out of the Gyrfalcon's hive she slowed her pace considerably to one of an ambling walk. The ingrate kept her gaze skyward, fulling expecting a black winged visitor to heckle her shortly.

Her grip on the nest was hazardous at best -- as such she often had to replace her handle on the unstable load. So preoccupied was she by her shaky load she scarce noticed the avian comrade's unfortunate tumble with an enraged male falcon. Never been one for appreciating the benevolence of others, Caiaphas continued the perilous ferry of her illicitly obtained goods.

Once they were far enough the raven flitted about her; she regarded him in silence as he bobbed along an outstretched branch. She had never developed a fondness of the avian persuasion, yet this fowl was proving most earnest in his ambitions. She placed the unsteady heap at her paws as Bartok's crafty utterance met her ears. Having always been one acquainted (poorly) with dry humor, it evinced a brief smile from the wench. "Dog require all the eggs." She confirmed snootily, licking her lips as she reminisced on their creamy, membranous texture. She hunched downwards as she felt him flutter towards her, unsure of his intentions -- yet when he did not nick her with his hooked talons she visibly loosened her posture. "Bird want?" It appeared she had regressed most regrettably into the bird's clipped vernacular -- a stunted speech in which delighted her upon utterance.

It was no lie Caiaphas was not disappointed when the dark-plumed avian denied her offer -- with a serpentine smile she digested both the eggs and his decline, pleased that the frothy yolk would be only hers to enjoy.

His query was given brief consideration, and she looked to him plainly, her expression mixed. "No." She revealed, a toothy grin delivered in his direction. Perhaps it had been a trick -- a scheme -- perhaps she had only wanted him close enough so that she could snatch him in her jaws and enjoy a nice side of split and protesting raven.

In either event, it appeared the sylph had nothing else to say. With her meal completed, she crossed her twiglike paws and stared at him, awaiting any sort of reaction to her rather clipped reply.

She sucked the succulent and gelatinous substance from between her paws, savoring the salt that stung her tongue. She watched as the bird hopped over to a bush and promptly demolished a spread of winter berries -- perhaps he would be the first of his kind to discover the true nectar of the gods. She remained studying him until he had caught her.

Like any culprit caught red-handed, she looked hurriedly away, shifting her hooded gaze to the eggs. "Dog go." She corrected, rising to her pale limbs. "Bye bird." She was pleased to learn his name, or what he considered his name -- with a wry snigger she picked up her (considerably less) heavy cache and dragged it back to the shore.