Shadewood and if i go far away i know you'll find another slave

all caiaphas' life, she had looked for the loose thread, the frayed edge -- so that she might worry it or unravel; she knew well the sharp looks of a studied creature, and she caught that in this instance, cry was subjecting her to the same careful inspection she had subjected thousands of wolves to.

a rueful smile set shop on that horrific face; for a grandma, she was too battered to appear friendly - instead, that smile took on a more sinister expression, perhaps because of the various angry welts that cut her lips, and distorted her muzzle.

inspect away, boy -- she seemed to silently challenge -- living things rarely like it when they discover what lurks beneath the dirt.


he might have thought he was clever, deducing from her unshielded body language her purpose -- any wolf with an eye might have figured out she was looking for something. caiaphas set back on her haunches in the most obscenely settled gesture, and had she nails to inspect, would have looked at them in a rather indifferent manner. she didn't answer his first words; one, it hadn't been posed as a direct question -- and two -- she knew by the gleam in his eyes he knew her purpose for being here, and wasn't going to play along.

"how long?" she repeated, analyzing that word; there it was, the true intention, obscured under the exchange of words  -- how long -- her time here wouldn't matter to a wolf on its own, would it? time was implacable, passing of its own accord in and out of the fabric of their world -- how long -- it was something a wearied host might ask of those taking advantage of his generosity; how long will it be before your flight home? or to put it impolitely -- how long until you get the fuck out of my house?

then this man was the host, the shadewood his home; caiaphas' gaze scanned the high canopy of whittled trees, their dark sour faces bent down around them. "i'm here, until i find them." she gave another insufferable half-grin; it wasn't a smile at all, it wasn't warm, it wasn't genuine. "care to scry from the trees, who 'them' is -- or maybe ask their all-knowing presence where they went?"