Sun Mote Copse and when you asked for light, i set myself on fire

figured this would be a good place considering its history..

quickly the she-wolf stole from redhawk, her thin limbs carrying her form ghost-like through fen and bramble. it had been sunset when she slipped from the plateau's brink, the red disc of the sun setting behind her with its angry eye on the world in a simmering, deep red hue. the peaks in front of her rose like teeth against the horizon, rimed in a red blood that sunk slowly to formless grey.

she missed the coast. her limbs were tired of rock and stone, land and stagnant air. she missed the ceaseless hum of the sea besides her, the groan of the tide, and the rotting suck of tidewater through the grotto.

svalinn and raleska might not ever know the ocean as she did, but it ran in their blood the same as it ran in hers; only, she had drunk deep of the sea's blood as well, and it now carried through her as undeniable as the rise of a frothy tide.

nightfall was at its zenith when she reached sun-mote; a tiny copse she knew neither the name nor the history of. perhaps if she had known of the bloodbath to happen here -- or the children that had been sacrificed here, their wilting skeletons buried mere feet beneath her paws with their skulls crushed and all anguish long-since departed -- perhaps she would have avoided the area entirely.

as it was, the siren queen knew not, and carried on through the brooding forest with restlessness vigorously chasing her.

After he had visited the falls and watched them for a while Charon felt the urge to go north. He urged to see the ocean, for he had been away too long. Yes, he had visited it with Vela and Jarilo not long ago now, but that had only made him realise how much he missed it. How much he longed to return to it. Moonspear was a formidable territory and he would not trade his great mountain for something smaller and meeker, but at the same time he wished that his mountain bordered the ocean so that he could smell the salty ocean each night still.

As he made his way down into the copse, the roaring of the waterfalls put behind him, Charon saw a flash of something there. An animal? A wolf? His nose was overwhelmed by the pollen and so he stepped closer. Only when his nose was adjusted by the many plants that lingered here did he get a whiff of wolf. Charon chuffed to gather their attention, unaware yet who it was that was down here.

caiaphas was traveling further from her beloved ocean, not closer to it. she moved with a huntress' purpose, and a blind man's desperation - up until she heard the soft chuff of a wolf nearby.

damn, he had been completely undetected by her. damn, she had really let her sharpness go.

she whirled around, an accusatory stare already in her gaze as she did so. she did not trust that a wolf that traveled by moonlight had good intentions. she did not trust that a wolf, alone in these strangely quiet wilds, would be any less tormented than her.

she stepped closer to the creature; something was familiar about him - the speckle on his face was a giveaway, but it was more than that. it was the shape of his head, the fold of his limbs - it called back to something, or someone that had been long dead, buried and left behind.

she straightened as she studied this male, so familiar, so remote.

at last she spoke. "peanut?"

As Charon navigated through the copse, closer to the object of interest, he saw a face that gave him a pointed stare. He didn't recognise the face, not at first. It wasn't an unfamiliar situation to Charon that he was recognised first; his striking appearance made it so that he often met wolves he did not remember but who had seen him before. Yet when she mentioned a name -- Peanut -- it did not strike any chord with him. He actually thought she was mistaking him for someone else, for his name was obviously not Peanut and he didn't remember ever receiving such a nickname, either.

"No, I'm not Pea--" he started, but was cut short when he saw the rest of the wolf's appearance. The white to mirror that oddly black face... He would not forget such an appearance quickly. "You!" he hissed as he remembered. He didn't remember her name, but he would never forget that she had sent him to the far north and caused his tangle with the dog-monster there after he had trespassed into the glacier pack she had blamed for taking Kevlyn. He'd never have proof, but he always blamed her for losing Kevlyn because she was tied so strongly to his dead brother's fate for him since that day. Eyes narrowed as he stared her down, unable to find the words he wanted to say or think of what to do as the memories flooded back.

funny how the world works. when you're aching for something to sink your teeth into, providence delivers.

at first, he had not recognized her; caiaphas was not one to forget a face, but as he so clearly was assured he was not the wolf she had just identified him as, she wondered again if old age was having its fun with her. her doubts were short-lived as a new expression coalesced his speckled muzzle - recognition.

so it was him.

caiaphas might have set her world afire for kevlyn, but that loyalty did not extend to his blood. it did not extend to anyone, except the corpse long picked clean in duskfire glacier. that corpse had been a boy, once. no more.

she was too full of hateful and misplaced anger to compose herself. charon's presence was merely a door, and caiaphas had fell through it - with a surge and a snarl she moved towards him - in that moment, she was reminded of the hellish glare in tuwawi's eyes. she would never forget that.

she feinted, a quick lunge meant to distract him -- and then she pirouetted neatly on her thin limbs and drove her teeth for home - hoping for neck, for throat, for pulsing blood.

He did not see the hatred in her eyes coming, nor the quickness of her assault. Charon had expected her to be like she was that day when he met her in Ravensblood Forest. To tell him calmly of things, to lie in a composed measure rather than being so raw and so.. angry. What did she have to be angry about? She had mislead him, not the other way around.

But he had little time to think about and the anger that made him feel, how frustrated he felt, for before he knew it her teeth were upon him. He could only avert them last minute to his shoulder, to keep her away from the sensitive area of his neck and throat. His shoulder was already partly bare from fur because of past injuries so the sting of teeth was harder than he expected -- pain seared through his body as blood was drawn. Perhaps because it was a sensitive area or perhaps because he just was not that used to fighting anymore.

"Get off me, you crazy bitch!" he screamed before deciding there was no use trying to talk to this woman. She had sent him to the claimed glacier one day already and here she was being utterly ridiculous and savage again. But this time he was not a little boy, and he would get her back for all she had done to him, and whatever she had done to Kevlyn.

As midnight eyes turned to sharp focus Charon lunged back at his enemy with a growl bubbling in his throat. He ducked his head down and tried to grab one of her legs or her chest, whatever piece he could get a hold on, longing to feel her blood between his teeth.

driven to unreasonable rage, caiaphas could not -- and did not -- compose herself. she wanted to hurt - to maim - to destroy; all of the sorrows, all of the grief and frustrations that had welled in her frame was suddenly given an escape, and it spawned into the world in the form of a bubbling and malevolent wrath.

her teeth sunk into shoulder but she did not feel satisfied. blood was drawn, but it did not slake her -- she whirled around to try to try again, just in time to feel with horror his teeth sink into her leg.

and then suddenly, her leg wasn't underneath her at all.

she screamed, a raw and high shriek, as she fell; chest first into the dirt, the yank of her limb had upended her and only further ignited her terrible rage. with a snarl she wrenched her bloodied, wounded leg from charon and pushed from the earth as hard as she could - aiming to body check him right in his stupid, smug face. she followed quickly after with a lunge to his leg just as he had done to her - all the while grimacing as blood and pain spilled freely.

Success tasted sweet as he pulled her weight from underneath her. Perhaps it would have been smarter at this point to simply flee while she was down, but the adrenaline that soared through his veins and the lust for winning and more of her blood, for revenge, that he felt kept him there. It was stronger than whatever survival instinct Charon had at that point.

Charon tried to dive on top of her but right at that moment she came in with opposite force and smacked into his nose. He shrieked in pain as his sensitive nose was slammed and he fell into the earth even before she grabbed for his leg. Charon guarded himself with teeth, aiming for her face -- whatever the outcome of this fight, he aimed to leave her the uglier for it -- while his nose smarted with pain.

the sylph limped as she moved; the two creatures locked in an arcane, violent dance. he fell from her wicked thrust, same as she had, yet she was not prepared for the lash of teeth that followed.

caiaphas had always been a she-wolf to use sleight of hand and deceit to her benefit: charon preferred brute force, and in that, caiaphas was far outmatched. she knew victory was not secured, but if she left him with a bitter taste of her own all-consuming wrath, perhaps that would be enough.

she was too slow as she pulled back and charon's defensive maneuver overcame her -- his teeth sunk deep into the meat of her cheek, her ear pressed between teeth and tongue. as she jerked back she felt the sickening rip of flesh - her flesh -- and felt a pain unravel high and hot in her head.

with a snarl she tried to force him back by pressing her paws to his chest -- anything at all to remove his baneful presence from her: and then with a few quick hateful snaps meant to deter him from pursuing, the slippery she-wolf attempted to escape whilst leaving him amid his own blood and agony.

Charon felt the sweet taste of victory as the blood of his enemy flowed through his teeth. He snarled viciously as he ripped at her flesh any way he could, hoping it would make her realise that she had lost and should leave him. Remains of skin and blood upon his blood-splathered mouth made adrenaline soar through his veins anew. He no longer wanted merely to escape out of this conflict -- he wanted to destroy her, like he had destroyed others before, because he then realised how easily he could.

Though it was hard to see through all of the blood in his face and the smarting pain of his face and leg Charon pressed forward with a ferocious snarl bursting from his throat. He was reckless, however, and while he tried to attack her again -- to kill her -- he was caught by the strength of paws and teeth. Paws placed in just the right location pressed him back -- be it luck or prowess in battle -- and as teeth raked across his face a last time he fell back against the ground. His head swam, the blood loss made him dizzy, and he came to his senses again, blood lust finally subsiding.

For a moment he wanted to pursue but as he hauled himself to his feet and the pain started to sink in he decided against it, stood there panting a moment before eventually turning away, intent on returning to his mountain.

caiaphas had turned tail, but for all of her bustling to appear as if she was retreating, it was a trap. long ago, caiaphas had learned from better and stronger wolves to never give chase around a corner: in those corners, you found nothing but fangs; fangs which waited in deceitful ambush - fangs that always took by surprise.

and so as she groaned and beat and clawed to find some tree to step slyly around so that she might play charon the fool, it was she that was played -- for the slavering hound of moonspear did not give chase.

caiaphas stood behind the tall bough of an immeasurably wide oak; it was just then she realized the exhaustion in her, and she collected her breath in galloping heaves. her sides could not still, her tongue lolled in sharp gasps; she had overestimated both him, and her strength -- and with a hateful sort of regret, realized she was lucky to escape alive.

she hung back, obscured in the deadfall -- she did not trust that the fight was over, that charon had simply decided there were better ventures to be had than ripping the flesh of a granny from limb to limb. caiaphas did not trust the crunch of leaves underfoot that announced charon had long since left --  but eventually, well after her breath had returned to her and her head roared in pain, caiaphas too moved, stalking in a stiff slouch for home with crimson stripes slaking down her white limbs.

His head felt light as he made the decision not to pursue; it seemed as if the weight of the fight fell off his shoulders, adrenaline still pumping through veins though not as deafeningly loud as it had before. He breathed out and walked away, though kept an eye on his back; he looked over his shoulder repeatedly, with every little sound he heard, afraid that she might have pursued after all, doubled back.

Charon kept struggling forward until he eventually found a place to lay down, after hours of walking, a small shallow cave in the mountainside. There he licked what wounds he could and rested up for a while -- an unruly, easily startled rest -- before he eventually returned to his mountain.