Dragoncrest Cliffs it’s very easy to make this clear

Erzulie arced into the seawater in pursuit of the stag, leaving Haunt standing in the surf, hesitating. The winter temperatures had deterred her from wetting her pelt, with the recent Seafoam Run further delaying her intent to adapt to this aspect of her surfside home. As she loitered, she fretted that the leader might be displeased with her reticence.

She continued to pace through the shallows, the surf licking at her ankles as she kept her eyes trained on both Erzulie and the deer. A dark figure suddenly darted past and into the water with the same eagerness as the Obsidian. Haunt stared at the head bobbing in the water and recognized Chacal. If her quiet, sensitive pack mate could dive in so readily, then why couldn't Haunt do the same?

Because you could drown, a voice of reason reminded her in the back of her head. She had so little practice swimming at all, much less in the sea. And how could she possibly hope to tackle prey in such a foreign medium? She hated to disappoint her pack mates or possibly even foil their hunt, yet Haunt could not bring herself to take the plunge.