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

another ugly ripple passed through the group: impatience, ugly and wearing close to the wire. white-hot and thin as the high whine of electricity snarling through the synapses. if she was standing over ice, it was perceptibly thin: one wrong move, and she would be no more. caiaphas kept her gaze defensively on towhee first and foremost -- the former beta loomed in her vision, outrage in those sharp jack-o-lantern eyes.

outrage that the sylph had put there.

if caiaphas was to survive this, or even make her packmates understand her position (unlikely) she would have to be careful with her words. great pains were taken to stifle those old currents of rash anger, which rose unbidden and constricted her throat.

it took more than she would have possibly estimated to remain still as towhee menacingly came towards her -- it was colt's surprising (and frankly, unprecedented) support of the she-wolf's words that caused caiaphas to tear her gaze reluctantly from the black and russet menace before her. "then make niamh the leader --" she snapped almost dismissively, a hastiness in her tone.

caiaphas was not being greedy to demand raven's rank -- she was doing what, in her own twisted way, she believed was right; the redhawks had grown lax, in her eyes -- the natural order had been disturbed well before caiaphas had ever set foot on the plateau.

she might have stirred again to speak, but a new spectre loomed on the congregation, its' back risen in a pronounced and clear posturing: raven.

caiaphas had not expected the guilt to snake into her heart as she returned the rightfully outraged stare of the alpha, but all the same, it settled there hateful and dry as black smoke. she was doing what was right, she reminded herself, steeling her resolve despite finding it slipping away.

as she looked into the striking eyes of her once leader, caiaphas found she hadn't wanted to hurt raven - at least not physically -- perhaps this coup was poorly planned as well as poorly backed, for the sylph had earnestly hoped whatever came of this would be bloodless and quick; it appeared now it would be neither.

she could stand down, and if she was smart, she would - but that wouldn't solve the fact that redhawk was helmless in a way that made caiaphas think it was destined to run aground: already fractures had appeared in the foundations, small cracks of divisiveness that would only grow in time. like timber, any pack needed to be bound by strong fiber; else wise, it collapsed under the mighty weight of its own reach.

niamh spoke next - calm despite the turmoil caiaphas believed she had detected in those honeyglaze eyes. the discomfiture grew, and the guilt roiled like a black snake in her gut up until the very end of niamh's words. the siren queen's ears flattened in umbrage, and something close to wounded hate briefly glimmered in her hawk-yellow gaze. how could she say that?

caiaphas was unaware of the children that collected along the fringes of their tense encounter - she was aware mostly only of the cold, unwelcome faces. she wanted no pity from any of them, but a sense of injustice grew and grew, cradled then by the sense of frustration and heavy guilt -- and finally, stoked into a smoldering furor by the sharp sting (albeit unintended) of niamh's cutting words.

quixote was spared only a cold glance: caiaphas had very little loyalty to him, though once upon a time she too had fought alongside him. his tone was sharp and accusatory, but even then carried none of the lasting damage niamh's words had inflicted. 

he was wrong -- sacrifice was the true duty of family, and she felt that conviction simmer in her gut. she was placing herself willingly in the ugly, uncomfortable position of receiving the entire pack's scorn -- all for the better of the pack, and her family. no wolf had shouldered that burden, and like a mule obediently to the yoke, caiaphas had stepped to the mantle to address the unsavory topic in the room all other wolves were too unwilling to expose to sunlight. that she was willing to stick out her neck under the sharp scrutiny of their bared fangs should have been enough for most wolves to understand her motives -- but instead, he perceived it as an assault. "yes -- this is how i treat my family - by honoring them and their future - and doing anything at all to ensure that." she hissed now, little rows of fierce teeth bared. "duty above self."

in a way, perhaps her intentions and motives were more trustworthy than any  -- or perhaps, the siren queen was simply quite mad.

she would not find her words received kindly here, and perhaps more ironically than anything, would find she made a poor voice of reason. they would not move or bend to reason anymore than a mountain would move. caiaphas, without ever ever raising a paw, had been defeated.

it would do her no good to strike against raven now -- even though the siren queen was confident in her victory if she did so -- it was still not the message she wanted to convey. it was not her intention to inflict physical harm, and for once, she kept her pretty teeth sheathed. and even if she did defeat or kill the she-wolf, she would quickly be ripped from limb to limb there-after by a berserk and grieving pack. that was not an outcome she wanted either -- it was either reform and remodel, or simply give up and move along.

and it was obvious she had no choice on the matter.

"my kids." she remained stubbornly where she was, her voice thick and gritty. "they come with me." only then would she leave the plateau -- and none-too-happily too, as she fully expected in the next few seconds things were going to get bloody.