Gyrfalcon's Keep the twisted nails of faith

to say the ruined strand fit caiaphas well would be a gross understatement. she enjoyed the labyrinthine lay of shipwrecked timber and irregular terrain. the flotsam rudely thrown upon the shore served as both a meal and shelter -- here and there past the scent of salt a bouquet of rot stuck heady and cloying -- the perfect miasma for a wretch as miserable as she.

yet as the sea-waif trowled along the shattered remnants she heard the steady patter of a gallop -- quickly she scrambled across the face of a felled tree, her ears pulled forward as a streak of ombre passed her vision. a male she immediately recognized. she would have haled him were it not for the breakneck pace he was committed to. unlike most of her kin she was far too lazy to consider catching up with him.

his frolic was shortlived, which made him approachable. slyly she slid down the gutted tree, a coy look crossing her features as she slithered towards the mainland wolf.