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For Bayou.

Above the chattering fronds of shivering tree limbs a crow cawed loud and bawdy - a pleating and racuous trill that caused Caiaphas to pause and look skyward. Half-blind to the suffering daylight, she squinted upwards and her pupils shrank. A shadow flitted overhead and melted into the bleary grey of the sky -- the youth rolled her shoulders and nonchalantly resumed her trot towards the edge of the forest. The tree line, razor thin before the jagged bluffs, sported sparse vegetation and she was in plain sight for every creature to see. Incidentally, the rest of the strand was empty save for her and the bird, who was now swallowed by rolling clouds and ocean mist. She imagined, as a new recruit, that there was some sort of task she was expected to do. But as a resolute deliquint, she surmised marking territories and protecting cache (and other familial pack duties) was not necessarily the deportment of a fiendish rogue such as herself -- and thus, below her concern. With a lazy flicker of her insolent yellow eyes, the useless urchin slid to the sand and made herself promptly at home.