Barrow Fields And then! And then! And then! And then!

a series of sneezes laid siege to the strange wolf  (or was it a wolf?), eliciting a careful step back on caiaphas’ behalf. the creature, cloaked entire by rags of pale snow, surged upwards — likely suddenly aware of the sylph’s presence. 

and then in a coiled, almost elegant spring (if one could call the spasmodic creature elegant at all) it leapt for caiaphas — too little too late did the siren react, the show of fine teeth bared in surprise. 

she whipped her head around with a snarl, springing away with a series of crocodile-snaps. whether they hit or not depended on the actions of her target, but caiaphas had no intention of being treated like the mantle of some furred jungle-gym. 

ripe with outrage, her gaze settled on the — assumed daft — creature, who only just now offered some explanation for her inexplicably harebrained assault moments before. with her tail lashing in quick contempt the crone exhaled. are you touched?