Stavanger Bay atop sins towered heaven high for me

it occurred to erzulie, as her jaws closed with a surprised grin, and snow spurred beneath her paws, that she had been wrong in her judgement. her theatrics had veiled the true nature of the woman whose strong legs carried a lithe body toward the sea. no child; no child — erzulie could have well kicked herself.
instead, the harlot hurled herself headlong into their race, skimming spice-dark ears against her skull and lengthening her stride till she had reached the flank of her leader. but there her speed faltered — she was after all a creature of decadence and not athleticism. or perhaps that of a certain variant only. a peal of laughter broke from her throat; her white teeth flashed in a gritting expression and erzulie spurred herself, knowing soon the ground would change to sand beneath her inexperienced limbs.