Stone Circle push play, stop, rewind

i think it is my post but smack me if it is not! hope i got everyone in. this is caiaphas' second post running so unless anything major happens, it may be her last post?

a cruel delight blossomed across caiaphas' face as she watched the aftermath of the chaos she had sown. leta was flung aside like a discarded hide; expectantly, most of caiaphas' pursuers went for the child, who landed eerily still and all-together limp. the harsh sting of her wounds were no match for the flush of victory the siren queen felt; fuck them for denying her family safe harbor. she hoped valette would know now the unending grief of a mother who had lost her child; let her remember this horrific day and the way her daughter slumped lifelessly into the dirt until the day she died.

even then, it was only a small victory for the trauma caiaphas had experienced. she swore to come back again, and again -- the unsettled, demonic ghost that simply could not be put to bed.. not until she felt the last of her vengeance exacted.

the siren had no time to rest on her laurels; wolves were flying to the scene, and one in particular (vercingetorix) caught her gaze as he came and then just as abruptly fled. caiaphas' expression darkened; traitor scum, she vehemently thought, swearing then that he would be served the same cruel brand of vengeance valette had experienced. he was gone and he had left her to die; for that betrayal, there was no coming back.

most of the pack was hot on her heels, particularly two wolves (one red, one black) that swam in her vision with flashing fangs. they brought pain and desperation to caiaphas' steps --  she doggedly continued onward at a limping pell-mell pace, using any tussock or bush she could to her advantage as her pursuers relentlessly tracked her. running out in the open she was likely to be overtaken. she knew if she slowed down to attack one, that another wolf would be upon her in minutes -- her only hope of survival was escape, and caiaphas ran as she had never run before.

eventually her adrenaline would fade and her body would complain in full stock of its injuries; she had received an ugly gash along her neck that bled profusely and whetted her coat in bright crimson. her ribcage hurt, likely bruised -- and both her hips and hocks sported bright dashes of mahogany from steph and indra's teeth. even if she escaped easthollow, her survival was not guaranteed -- her wounds were substantial and the matriarch walked with a limp that dogged every motion of her right hind hock.