Bramblepoint they should deliver all my blessings in small brown paper handbags near the porch

throughout her travels in this dry lot, caiaphas had been accompanied by a ghost-pelted wolf. yet the creature to approach her was not the silvery argent caiaphas was accustomed to seeing lingering in her peripherals — this one was much younger, with fewer scars.

her gaze swept over praimfaya in muted interest, half expecting yet another wave of hostility. there was no exchange to base the yearling’s intentions upon, and so caiaphas remained neutrally posed, ready for whatever.

except, perhaps, the arrival of a dragedan. caiaphas felt her gaze harden as dacio arrived, addressing her physical presence in a manner far from pleasant. just taking care of business. the siren rejoined almost sweetly, wondering if dacio knew of vercingetorix’s demise. she had always assumed vercingetorix had gone back to drageda’s thinned outpost the hour he had turned tail upon her — perhaps this was all that remained of his covert group. i could say the same for you. who is your friend? the wolf was younger than her enemy — drageda had disbanded before she recalled any puppies — she wondered, perhaps, if this was vercingetorix’s pale daughter..

she supposed at any moment, this might turn ugly. her stance remained unthreatening, yet coiled — ready should dacio strike first.