Kairos too, like Widow before her, was trekking from Iromar. She had beseeched the alphess there to turn from her wicked ways at about the same time they brought in that detestable hellion whose rank scent she did not recognise. She had hung around the borders for awhile after that, deciding on the best course of action, and had caught the odour of the passing woman from before. Curious, and without anything better to occupy her time, she had followed the lady at a discreet distance, nose to the earth. After awhile, the scent she was tracing spilt from the tree line, but Kairos hung back in the shadows. The young wolf she had been dogging stood out in the fields, caught in conversation with two strangers. The tri-hued female was too far away to hear what was being said, although she found she was no longer even bothering to listen.

Something about the one stranger struck her, and she narrowed her black eyes with their swirling, blue streaks, shutting out the jagged light of the sun that glinted on her face where it hovered outside of the cover of the forest. The woman was old, her bearing said as much, although she was still large and beautiful. It wasn't her frame that had caught the young one's attention though; it was her colouring. There, on her face, was the blood-red image of the mask she herself wore, mark of the Angel bloodline. Her white pelt too reminded Kairos of herself, as did the pert shape of her muzzle. Confused, Kairos inhaled the air sharply, and found the perfume of the older wolf both familiar and yet unrecognisable – a trait of family not before met. True, Kairos had never before cared much for family, especially not her mother or brother, but there was something unusually powerful that she glimpsed in the old one and so, she left the undergrowth and emerged into the warm day, sleek pelt bright against the otherwise green grass of the fields.

She walked confidently into the circle of wolves, head swinging to take in all three of the females, although she did not greet the two two-year olds, and the older received a mere dip of her head. Words flew like bullets from the mouth of the dark one from Iromar, but she did not feign interest. All she cared about, was satisfying her curiosity. After all, what was a transcended goddess to do for fun when she wasn't busy working? Maybe this link to her ancestry would provide the reason for Illias' afflictions, or her mother's fragile mental health. Then again, maybe she was an insignificant stranger who meant as little to the powdered femme as Heyel had. Whatever the outcome, Kairos was determined to find out.