Fox's Glade why, why, why? to help my family?

a maddened delirium overtook the harpy in days that followed. her skin boiled, her wounds festered. @Svalinn’s attempts at healing ministrations were often rebuked by a wicked show of fangs, and at night the siren’s eyes rolled wildly under thin, crusted lids. 

her fur, ever coarse, seemed stretched thin over skin tented to pointy bones and aching hollows. she sought seclusion, resting under heavy thickets and near damp eaves bordering gurgling streams. a mist shrouded caiaphas’ yellow eyes —eyes which had only ever been penetratingly clear in her time. 

a lull fell over the glade she rested within, and in that gloomy quiet where not even the sun dared stir, caiaphas slept.