Caiaphas had been plopped out in the plains after the ordeal with the magic portals and fixing the end of the world, but being injured and surrounded by strangers didn’t sit well with her. She’d slunk away without fanfare, limping off a sprained wrist and covered in bruises but otherwise nearly unscathed.
Nearly.
Enough to hide away until the pain subsided and she felt confident in walking tall again.

She was aimless. She’d never had nothing to do so long, and while at first it’d been freeing, it’d gotten boring. Caiaphas was a spy, a storyteller; she thrived in places of chaos, where history was made and legends lived on in the hearts of those she inspired with the tales. She needed adventures or those willing to share theirs. Having glowing bodily fluids sure was a good story, she supposed, and the one that earned her such a strange.... blessing?

She’d tried finding a way back home. If she’d found a way here, maybe she could return? But wherever she went, there was no shimmer of magic, no doorway that led her home. She’d even tried using the tunnels, desperately thinking of Thornhaven.
She’d only ended up back in the fucking cold. She’d gone right back through, frustrated, and ended up back where she’d started in this forsaken land. Better than the north, at least; it wasn't so bad now that the frostkill was over, and her joints didn’t ache with age anymore, but she still felt sour at the reminder of what she’d lost. The mountains and cold just made her think of having failed where she ought not have. Where she realized her powers were well and truly gone.
Well fine. She didn’t need them. Maybe the Fae Queen had finally bothered paying attention to her and given her what she’d always wanted: a normal life, free of her gilded chains, reborn to have a new life.

But that left her aimless.

She didn’t know what to do, if not to live in the service of Thornhaven. She’d never imagined that a bad thing; so long, she’d wanted to be free to travel. To meet others. To love freely and party hard, to not be tethered to anything and anyone.

They said be careful what you wish for. Caiaphas thought she understood that now.

She forged her way into the sprawling autumnal forest in the center of the land, reminded more of home than anywhere else in this blasted land. She'd been here since then, haunting the forest like the lonely little fae she was. Hunting, minding her own business, just... existing.
Remembering.
Thinking.

The moon was no more a claw-scratch in the sky, and the wind was fierce. Caiaphas perched upon a thick, gnarly branch of a tree, staring at the sky, chin up and ears back as the heavy breeze ruffled her fur.

This place was quieter than Dawnbreak, and he hardly felt like he belonged there these days anyway. So he roamed, the wind moving through the hanging curtains of crimson wisteria, that carried rustling leaves and the distant calls of wildlife. He moved through the undergrowth at an unhurried pace, weaving between patches of fallen petals that painted the forest floor red and white. There had been no destination in mind when he'd left Dawnbreak that morning. Restlessness had driven him from home more than anything else, it sat beneath his ribs and made staying still feel impossible.

So he'd walked. And walked.

And eventually he found himself here.

His ears would twitch and pace would slow at the sound of shifting branches overhead, his gaze lifted toward the canopy. At first all he saw were tangled branches until a silhouette resolved among them, a figure perched high above the ground. Was that...a wolf? ...in a tree? ...What the hell? his eyes narrowed, he stood frozen for several seconds staring upward with the same expression one might reserve for witnessing a fish casually walking across a field.

Y'know, he finally called up his voice carrying through the trees, most folk use trees for shelter.

—

((rolled a d20 to see if he's hidden and he's not LMAO, feel free to acknowledge him or not))

One thing Cyril had not considered about this new body was supplying it with nutrition. His beloved king often gave him whatever he craved, be it wine, meat, or succulent fruit, leaving little room for him to worry about starving. He was always a light eater, anyways, so he rarely sought out food until the tables were filled for banquet, but these hunger pangs were becoming difficult to ignore.

Much to his chagrin, he realized that wolves often fought for their food, rather than being presented it by an obedient servant. Imagine that, a deer simply serving itself to him.

But no, life wasn’t as easy anymore, he would have to provide for himself. Thankfully, his red coat complimented the amber leaves of this forest, potentially providing him with near perfect camouflage. So long as he could be patient, which Cyril wasn’t particularly known for… But he wasn’t anything if not a go-getter, so he’d give it an honest try.

Nose to the ground, he attempted to parse the scents that were significant to his wolf-self. What did a deer smell like, or a hare? Ugh, he had no clue.

Oh.

But he recognized that scent.

Other wolves.

He trailed it, eager to meet someone else in this barren land. He’d been twitching for company just as much as he had been for food, it wouldn’t hurt to follow up on a smell like.

And then he found them. A redhead perched in a tree like a bird of prey, and a smaller, darker male below it, speaking up to her. I didn’t know the wolves of this land were tree dwellers, he thought humorously. Hidden by his amber fur amongst the fallen leaves, Cyril hung back, observing the conversation in amusement rather than interrupting it.

Caiaphas watched. The wind brought her the scent of the yearling before she saw him, but she remained unbothered. He carried the pack-scent of the mountain she'd offered a goat to; embarrassed herself in front of, but at least it didn't seem to be the bull of a woman. Even so most others didn't bother to look up in the first place, and even if they did, she couldn't imagine many scaling the low-hanging branches to meet her kissing the sky.

Perhaps it was the wind itself, pushing against the weighted branch and creaking. Perhaps she just didn't blend in well enough. Perhaps he was just less useless than she expected someone his age to be.

She was impressed, nonetheless, that the boy was observant.

For a moment, she didn't even move, though her ears twitched at his soft curse of incredulity. She felt like a goddess, the plush fur of her mane tugging in the wind, perched high above and peeking down upon the world of mortals.
She felt almost like her old self again, confusing the locals.

Her wine-pink gaze settled down on his stubby crow-dark frame, tail swishing.

Some would say I am sheltered, she tossed back sweetly, voice tinkling like a bell, High above other predators that might mean me harm lurking in the woods. - she didn't call him out directly, eyes remaining on the youngster, but she could smell the citrusy tang of someone else nearby, caught a flash of sepia fur from her peripheries.

A single long, eerie blink.

Some would argue I do not need shelter. The weather doesn't call for it, the land is no longer frozen. Why not enjoy the night?

Her lips parted in a glowing cheshire grin, forepaws crossing casually.