Cerulean Cape don't cry for yesterday

as caiaphas trawled the barren sand for any deposit of edibles, she thought she scented an alarmingly familiar smell. the sylph froze and lifted her skull aloft, rawboned muzzle working against the whipping wind as she plied from the brine the scent of a wolf she distinctly recognized.

she entertained the idea of leaving, and letting those who were tied to her past to go on believing she was gone or dead. but in the end, her insatiable curiosity overtook her and she found her legs compelled of their own accord to bring her to the pale male-who-was-not-male.

the interim in which she had been acquainted with pan had been a small window -- small enough in that caiaphas felt there was still more to learn from the sound's last drudge. he was in the water, half blended with the rippling white of seafoam -- and it was not until caiaphas was nearly upon him that she spoke. "ah -- the acolyte returns."