Grouse Thicket An Irishman walks out of the bar

caiaphas' prospects here were poor. big game was scarce, and most small game easily eluded her limping form. her fight with charon had not been free of consequences; the battered shrew looked every bit hellish cur, and skulked through the thicket with a dark mood shrouding her.

she saw ahead another creature; one that was evidently well fed by the thickness of her condition. yet caiaphas surmised a bulk of that was her coat, which was plush as lambs wool and a pale, soft white. the she-wolf was hunting - already caiaphas was devising a way to perhaps trick the wolf into hunting for her -- with a careful limp she began to approach, though kept her distance respectful.