Barghest held her paw steady, watching the faint glint of light bounce off the black metal talons as she scraped them against stone. The sharp, metallic sound sliced through the silence of her den, a memory of battles she had been partaking in—day in and day out, for months now. The act had become a ritual, almost meditative, each drag of claw against stone chasing away the restless energy that swirled within her like a storm.

She had taken to sharpening them in slow, methodical strokes, as if the discipline of it could tether her thoughts and bind her restless nature. The battlefield waited, yes, but so did the wild energy within her. Each stroke against the stone felt like a vow—a silent one that no matter how fierce her internal storm became, she would harness it, channel it. She would let it out only when it was time. Barghest’s gaze was fierce, her breath even, but her gaze cloudy, overtaken by something that hungered for the clash of battle and the rush of blood, for the chaos that her sharpened claws would bring. Now was the time for rest, for refinement, and refocusing, but not for much longer.

She offered the stillness of her den a soft chuckle from deep within her chest, and moved onto her next talon.

""

Everything was coming up Scylla. She had her pack, they had claimed a new land, she'd scored a big, hot man, and she was surrounded by family. What more could a lady ask for? All of the little pieces were falling into place. There were just a few little odds and ends to tie up, including producing an heir to take things over when she'd tired of leadership.

As Scylla traipsed along the falls, a familiar form came into view. Barghest sat up ahead, working hard on something. The cobalt and cream fae couldn't quite see what until her angle of approach changed. Sharpening her weapon. Very smart.

"Hello, sister," Scylla purred as she came in closer. Blue and grey eyes inspected the metal claws as she sprawled out on her svelte belly. "Lovely day for some blade sharpening, eh?" It was a lovely day for everything, with as good of a mood as she was in.

"Scylla"