Gyrfalcon's Keep the twisted nails of faith

as lasher's poignant stare fell along the cold shore caiaphas traced his gaze, watching the bluffs as they withstood the relentless bludgeon of frothy waves. how could she leave this place? the shore was just as much a part of her as the black that fouled her countenance -- she knew the bleak strand better than any -- down to the darkest corridor of the secluded grottos that flanked it.

she turned attention to the dark chestnut wolf besides her, noting the deepness of his moss-cured gaze. there was an alien calmness in the stark steel-grey of his gaze -- she was reminded of some celestial planet, tranquil from a distance but chaotic within. it was enrapturing the way the eye captured colors - there was a sheen to his pupils not unlike the oily radiance of a nebulous gas spill. not wishing to be caught studying him, she turned quickly. but the image remained sharp in her subconscious.

"no reason to." she quipped, returning her stare to the shore. after all, the food was plentiful here -- it was much easier scavenging the bloated corpses along the sand than it was stalking prey for miles inland.