Stavanger Bay as i climb into the skies

"je te vois," the harlot purled to whatever loa were at her shoulder that cool evening, settling her haunches upon the sun-dappled earth and observing the details of what lay before her. a lair, moated partially by a small pool of currently frozen water beneath a light dusting of newfallen snow. entry the den itself was barred by heavy stones, piled eons ago, erzulie suspected; wolves who approached must diverge to the right or the left and climb to the platform above.
presently, the she-wolf gathered herself and with long strides, ascended to the stone-bridge that overlooked the basin. to her back, an impenetrable wall of rock. here her jaws parted in a smile; any who drew close would be seen, and that was as the woman preferred. slipping her tawny shoulders beneath the pale arch of the denmouth, erzulie breathed in only the stale scents of beasts that had long gone, the ivoried bits of bone along the cold floor evidence of their one-time presence.
yes — she padded its depth and back, noting not without a wry delight that two wolves would able to occupy the space pleasantly enough. and was that not her purpose.
erzulie reemerged, lifting her velveteen muzzle into the air and searching for traces of a specific scent. it was not upon the wind, not here. a smirk curved her lips, and in the next moment, she had descended, arcing in a quick leap over the pond, and set off at a paced lope.
a hunt to hone her knowledge of the bay, and for her efforts, @Smokestep at its end.