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

for a while yet, caiaphas remained in fretful slumber, unaware of the grey ghost that crept along her bedside thicket. she was too dogged by fever to be on high alert, and remained ignorant of the interloper’s presence up until a rather painful tremor shook her form and stole the sleep from her wearied body.

she awoke, bleary eyes slow to unlid and focus. she raised her head wearily, the thin ligaments along her neck scarcely able to hold their burden upright. it took only moments for her to realize a shadow stood over the threshold of her fitful camp; her filmy eyes searched clumsily along the dark, alighting at last on the tall and lean form of a silvery woman.

caiaphas noted the scars that chewed sarah’s face, measured the leanness of her form — she appeared a grim scavenger, save for the lingering perfume of a pack that shrouded her form. the siren’s lips peeled back in a forbidding snarl, yet no sound pressed forth from her burning lungs.