Barrow Fields fire and life incarnate

the sylph had followed the scent of game out of Ankyra's keep -- a welcome distraction from the four whelps that constantly clamored for her attention.  her youth were now old enough that she was afforded a rare excursion, and caiaphas was eager to return to a life of normalcy. it hadn't taken her long to fall into the old rhythm of hunting -- the foothold she traveled snarled out from the sentinel sequoias, until at last it deposited her on the windswept plains of Barrow Fields.

it was not the scent of company that gave the siren queen pause -- but the familiarity of it. with her breath hatefully sucked through her little fangs the wretch strode purposely across the tussock studded glade, yellow eyes coming to rest on not one, but two wolves.

the first, clad brazenly in russet hues, was given the briefest of glances -- but the second, loam colored and quite familiar, was given a long and hateful stare.