Sequoia Coast Like whirlpools

Admittedly, the towheaded wretch felt a little silly for her faux pas -- and her muscles tensed as if anticipating a reprimand or recourse for the brash manner in which she approached. But in truth, Caiaphas felt very protective of the strand and even if she was disciplined for her unruliness, she would likely commit the same mistake again.

Any sign of territorial aggression crumpled once the female spoke: thus ascertaining she was, indeed, part of the tribe Caiaphas had recently aligned herself with. Her posture lowered and she stared instead at the vein of copper brilliance that wrapped around the female's slender and powerful legs.

Once Psamathe was finished speaking Caiaphas answered with a swiftness that exposed the deference she was exhibiting in her posture. Yet for a moment she fumbled - the way the female articulated her inquiry made her wonder if she meant in direction of her recent excursions, or if she meant what had brought her to the tribe. "I've been scouting. There are many packs here, though none so close as the Bay. I am Caiaphas, by the way." She shifted, her gaze brushing across the finely contoured visage of the female before deferring. "What can I do to help?" Her tone suggested her impatience, though it was lidded gently by urgency. "I feel a vagrant - we have been in limbo for too long and if we wait another pack may seize the coast."

She almost looked apologetically at the brilliantly colored female, but at the same time -- Caiaphas had found something she felt an affinity for and passionately was refusing to let go.