Heron Lake Plateau now i’m free from what you are

oh god bby what is u doin

there once had been a time where, perhaps, caiaphas would have been happy to keep her head down, to roll along with the sundry punches and bucks life among other wolves was oft given to propagate. that time, however, had long ago fled — the amazon had her children to think of. 

children she would refuse to raise weak. 

it had been no secret that as of late, certain rumblings in their leadership structure had occurred. caiaphas thought back to fire — where the hell was fire — as she thought of the last opening in ranks to occur. she could feel, in that bizarre and electric way, a shift in the atmosphere — the growling approach of a snarling storm black beyond measure. 

that it frustrated the sylph to witness such lax leadership was in itself an understatement — Caiaphas resented it entirely, the disdainful way one might resent the house centipede that stubbornly inhabited the dark realms underneath the sink. it reflected poorly on her - on the pack - to be housed in such poorly crumbling infrastructure. it made for weak, stupid wolves... and caiaphas detested both with equal measure. 

where the fuck was fire?

her halcyon gaze swept the empty plateau, rueful and contemplative. it was her impression what she was doing was right, but she knew also it would be poorly received. nevertheless, the siren threw back her head and howled regardless — a high, rippling note that challenged raven (and truly, any wolf that opposed) for alphaship. i am taking it, her howl seemed to say between the icy chatter of the wind: i am taking it and you cannot stop me.