Barrow Fields And under mountains in the moon

today marked the first day following firefly’ abrupt overthrow. it was not something caiaphas wished to think of; suddenly unshackled from the duties of alphaship, the siren slipped from rusalka’s borders and made for the familiar grasslands of the barrow.

much like mal, and even vercingetorix, caiaphas wished for something to sink her teeth into.

she found that something too — the dragedan’s scent was easy enough to pick off in the wind, but caiaphas did not advance. instead, she skirted around the base of one of the many raised borrows, easily scaling the cairn with several artful leaps.

it had been some time since their skirmish with the drageda forces, and most of rusalka’s boiling blood had settled — but caiaphas could not, and would not forget the injustice they had done to her packmates.

how fitting it seemed, on the day she wished to do nothing more than rip something apart, that none other than her enemy appeared.

from her vantage, she saw mal— a wolf she hadn’t been aware was here in the fields as well. he seemed to be the same age as her own fleet of yearlings, give or take — and it appeared the familiar form of vercingetorix had overtaken him.

settling on the snow-dappled mound, caiaphas peered down upon the duo, her gaze largely on the blackened cur with detached and vaguely creepy amusement.