The Sentinels that you would be shaking right down to your soul

omg the image of her head rolling around very barbaric

she had not expected the vision she beheld -- a wearied, haggard lasher with the multilated head of her assailant clutched between his jaws. her face crushed and beaten as if some bloodied and gory offering set forth before an implacable and justless god. some would have been sickened by the unnatural curve of wednesday's smile, or the crookedness of her burning yet sightless gaze -- but in caiaphas, only a sense of self-righteousness stirred.

she did not miss the sting of lasher's gaze as he approached her, nor the coldness in which his demeanor seemed steeped of. in some ways she did not regret the sharp words she had spoken -- in other ways, she felt an immediate and urgent need to restore whatever irreparable damage she had done to his psyche. she lifted her muzzle and for a moment only stared at the face of her assailant before speaking. "i came across a strange wolf inland that was looking for the blacktail deer pack. black with white shoulders and mismatched eyes. part of the blackfeather cult -- friend of yours?"