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.

Sarah was both a hunter and a scavenger - one role did not exclude the other, rather the circumstances told her, which path to choose at any given moment. Usually, when the hollow did not provide enough for her, she would leave it's confines and head out in the plains, browsing through her surroundings, watching, listening and picking up smells that wind brought with it, the scent paths various animals had left and the odours that evaporated from the earth itself. 

Today too she picked one - faint, but promissing - and followed it. The source was far away, sometimes she missed it and had to stop to find it away, at other places it was strong, making easy for her to follow it. The closer she got to her target, the clearer was the message the molecules of this particular perfume told her. Sickness. When this realization sank in, another face of Sarah's was awakened. One she did not wear often, one that was hidden in the darkest corners of her mind. One that was cold and rational, one that did not know mercy. One that was not above playing God. 

During her reign at her family pack, many lone wolves had stopped by and many had not seen the sun rise the next day. Sarah had seen threat in them and she had done, what she had believed was best for everyone, more importantly - her family. She was loyal to a flaw, you see, and she heard the calling of that voice now, as she narrowed down on the injured, emaciated sleeping form of the coywolf in the shade.

Sarah settled down and watched her quietly, making a decision that, if the nature did not finish the work, she should.

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.

Taking them out unawares was easy - no doubt - but Sarah had got some sense of a warrior's honor. The other person deserved a chance to fight for it's survival, they had to see their killer face-to-face. When they died, the last face they had to see was hers, looking down at them and smiling. 

While she waited for the other to wake, she traced the scrawny she-wolf's body with her eyes. Noticed her bony frame, stopped, where teeth and claws of others had torn her flesh open, leaving open wounds, reeking of dried up blood, foreign saliva and a scent of sickness.

All details spoke of an easy target, but in her long life she had learned not to underestimate the enemy. Especially if provoked by fear of dying. Therefore she stayed still, observing her victim quietly and, when the sleeping beauty finally opened her eyes and greeted her with a snarl, Sarah's somber expression changed to one that was slightly amused.

She got to her feet and took few steps closer, her cold and steady gaze locked on coywolf's face. A cat approaching a mouse.

caiaphas’ withering snarl, which met the air and strangled out in a hoarse and grotesque noise, did not deter the stranger. ghostlike, the grey demon took several daring steps further. the motion caused caiaphas to jerk to her feet roughly, pulled upright as if a crude marionette operated by drunken fingers. 

a tremor rippled through her body as she  stood, her gaslight gaze holding fast to sarah’s stern features. caiaphas lifted her proud muzzle, curled back her gums to reveal rows of well-used teeth, and dared her mercy-killer make the first move.

Gannet hadn't meant to follow Sarah. He'd kept to himself since returning, honestly, still with sorrow clinging to him over everything that had changed. Most of his time he spent with Ashlar, attempting to cheer himself as well as the boy, who finally seemed to be setting aside old friends for new ones.

But he caught wind of her nearby and thought perhaps two would be better than one in a hunt, so he came. He actually saw the stranger first.... then Sarah, in a stand-off. He stopped, the picture of calm, despite Caiaphas' snarls. He didn't really bother with reading the situation.

You're hurt, he stated, choosing to state the obvious for some inexplicable reason rather than offering help.

Helplessness came in waves for Svalinn— who refused to leave his mother's tattered side unattended until, finally, he couldn't stand the hungry ache in his belly any longer. Still a boy in many ways, no matter how bad she looked, or smelled, he had yet to fathom the possibility of her death. He could only think about so many things at a time, and for now his head was full of just two things:

Make her well.

Keep any more harm from coming to her.

He was tending to the first thing, returning with a half-crushed marmot dangling buoyantly from his teeth, when he belatedly realized that he had forsaken the second thing and left her vulnerable.

Dropping the rodent, and completely missing the other potential threat in the vicinity, Svalinn lunged viciously for the smoky she-wolf cornering Caiaphas, with every intent on shaking the life out of the transgressor if he caught her.

Too easy to be true.

Whoever gods were looking after Caiaphas's soul, were doing their job well. They sent Gannet first, making Sarah stop, think and reluctantly let go of the intent to kill the snarling bag of bones in front of her. Somehow she had a feeling that her packmate would not understand her reasons, no matter, how tolerant and patient he had been with her before. There was a slight suggestion that by carrying out the task she would disappoint him. And the disappoinment in his eyes would be difficult to bear. 

But just as she had made a decision to back off, she heard someone else approaching from behind. The she-wolf snapped around just in time to see jaws, claws and an unmistakeable intent to murder coming her way. With no time to resolve this diplomatically, she opted for a counter-attack either to deflect the opponent or seriously wound him. It had been a long time, since she had fought and in her own way she looked forward to it.

things were looking grim for the siren queen. many times in her life she had faced tremendous odds, and yet had the good fortune of her full health to see her out of trappy situations. but this was different: she stood before a wolf in prime health, and she was alone and sick -- the infection that poisoned her blood left her frail and weak, and she knew her odds of survival were low at best.

another wolf came; caiaphas' jaws tightened and she focused the cold bore of her gaze upon him half expecting he was here to assist the woman -- yet he seemed more focused on her, going so far as to mention she was sick. her thin tail rose and then fell, as if the energy taken to summon such an insignificant gesture had been too great to bear.

before she could even respond, there was a flash of gold and she knew immediately the russet streak tearing towards her challenger was none other than her son. "svalinn!" the withered crone hoarsely barked, attempting to draw him back from his well-timed assault -- if she could somehow defuse the situation, she would. lurching forward with her hind end listing weakly, caiaphas attempted to stop svalinn's progress before he managed to reach sarah. "leave," caiaphas found herself hissing, barely able to continue standing much longer.

This was a mess. Sarah seemed to notice him, but before he or she could greet, another shape burst from the side to intercept. Gannet spun with alarm, but the sick wolf was already moving to intercept. She looked rough, but he could easily read the vitrol in her eyes as she told them to leave.

I could help, he intoned calmly, though he took a step back and glanced at Sarah. If she did not want it, he would not force her to accept it. His role as doctor went only so far as another wolf was willing to accept, and perhaps her friend here could help instead.

Svalinn— who did not share the violent impulsiveness of his adoptive family and was not some rage-blind defender— immediately became less volatile at his mother's coarse command. Though trained by the best, and accustomed to roughhousing, the golden vandal truly wanted no part of fighting with outsiders, and it made him easy to rein in. He skidded to a halt before the salt-and-pepper she-wolf, stalled if his would-be opponent managed to hold back as well, and he tucked his chin with a warning snarl for good measure.

He made himself into a furry-brick wall between her and Caiaphas, fiery eyes trained with blistering animosity on the potential threat, even as he finally realized there was another there too.

I could help.

Svalinn could barely spare the other male a glance, frowning, but the rumble in his chest hit an uncertain pitch. Do I still chase them both off? What if he can save my Mama? He certainly wanted these wolves gone, but he also definitely needed help. His mother needed help— more than he could give. But... "We don't trust you." Do we have a choice?

Oh, well, here went a chance of a good fight. Sarah looked almost disappointed by the misse opportunity to tear the kid's ears off and maul that handsome face. Just to let him know, what the rough side of the life was. Gannet mumbled something about help and she gave him a skeptical glance. Really? Then at the pitiful mess the female was and her valiant knight. 

"They are not worth it," she told him and, without checking, whether he thought otherwise (of course, he did), she turned on her heel and left the place. If he wished to stay and deal with them - all fine - she was done here.

Last one from me!

slight pp to wrap up, i hope that's ok <3

relieved to see her son rein in his flaring assault, caiaphas pressed to his flank while her yellow gaze fixed coldly, feverishly even, on the form of the she-wolf that if things had been different, might have been the end to caiaphas' long and storied chapter. her gums peeled back, yellowed teeth revealed -- whether or not gannet meant well, he was still clearly associated with the devil that had attempted to kill her. for that, caiaphas would not give him even an inch of her trust.

she had learned long ago very few things were to be trusted -- and few things were more fallible than men.

flicking her tail, she set gannet with a measured, unflinching look. "you can help by leaving us." she barely had the strength to stand, and so leaned shakily against her son, her breath ragged. once she was certain gannet and his hellish succubus were out of their vicinity, caiaphas collapsed to the ground and did not rise for some time.