Dragoncrest Cliffs i thought i was different but it seems i’m just the same

drageda gathered, their numbers looming, and still rusalka did not bend.
erzulie's head began to swim with it all, her blood a drumbeat aria of anger. and fear, yes fear, for she was mortal, and therefore her life mattered to the harlot. but it did not matter, truly, not with her packmates beside her and the fierce guerrier at their helm.
hackles bristled; erzulie flashed her teeth before drageda and would have advanced, if not two reasons to hold back unveiled themselves then.
rosalyn's voice echoed from some cavern, reverberating from the cliffside, a flag that harboured agony and flung its scarlet warning across the sky, o'ertop the lunging form of caiaphas, who went without terror to meet the fangs of the wretched kidnappers.
the acrid stench of piss struck her nostrils then; she glanced round to see the boy wyatt, whose terror was plain. 
the battle lost already; she could not conceive of it, but the echoes of her lover's anguished shout were remembered, and quickly she turned to @Illidan. "get dem out of here," came her low order, eyes boring into the eyes of the boy. young, yes, not too young to lead rusalka back to the sound even with drageda following.
it was not a request.
in the next moment, she had snarled a great cry, stride carrying her behind caiaphas, down toward the dark woman who stood in their path, and at the last the harlot veered to intercept the pale @Silkie and @Dacio, seeking to snap her own teeth into one of the wretches' outreached muzzles.