Seaside Moors the first taste.

Moving due-south of the strange trees with its playful occupant, Nukilik wondered what she may find further inland. She did not manage to go very far before the sparse greenery of the plateau with its trees gave way to more rock, with dense chaparral wedged in clusters across an uneven hill. She picked her way along this expanse for a few hours - until it surrounded her in every direction - and then paused to gather her bearings.

The terrain was difficult for her; it was pock-marked, with grainy hard-packed soil for the most part, and there were many abutments of knobby basalt that looked almost barnacled at first glance. It wasn't, of course. Nukilik examined a few of the lighter patches speckling some of these giant tooth-shaped exposures and found they were discolorations, not growths.

She snorts to clear her nostrils of the earthy scent, and then settles for a moment on to her haunches beside a cluster of vibrant little flower buds clinging to a reedy bush of some sort; it was growing aggressively between two slabs of rock, but had not bloomed yet. It was a rock rose, she presumed. Her mother had once tried to each her to identify such things but... It was yet another aspect of coastal life Nukilik had not excelled with.

As the warm wind changed direction and blustered from the south, she thought she smelled something familiar - and for a moment thought of Hua and Ying, which brought a regretful expression to her face before she banished them from her mind. It did no good for Nukilik to think of what she'd abandoned; she had a debt she must pay to the sisters should she ever encounter them again. The smell beckoned her again, and so she rose to her paws and began to slow but steady prowl south, to where the smells were concentrated, and then halted again with her nose buried against a patch of struggling moss.

with the cat in the vicinity, erzulie had devoted herself to patrols. long hours of it, curling back to deliver meat to her daughters, and then out again. the harlot found herself more absent, but that could not be helped in the face of such threats.
muzzle to the earth, erzulie paced through the yellow gorse, speckled throughout with tiny white blossoms. it was toward the grove she moved, intending to search for more prints in the sand. 
unlike the thick forests that had veiled them upon the plateau, the moorlands were flat and open. any rusalkan could be spotted if not careful to slink. and erzulie was too filled with a riotous anger, one that propped her pride and set her cinnamon hackles to bristling.
mismatched gaze coursed the breadth of the heather plains toward the halted figure of a stranger. not one of hers; not one of rusalka. the harlot set a harsh gait for herself, a clipped bark ringing from her throat as she approached.

The first thing she heard was a sharp call, too close, too loud among the quiet of the seemingly empty landscape. It startled her. She punched the ground without meaning to, her shoulders tensing and forequarter bobbing low, while her tail swung in opposition - first up, puffed, and then down and curling at her underparts.

She snaked back a step and caught herself roughly against some stonework, feeling the drag of its coarse texture against her coat. Her head was low, her ears slicked back. All over the course of several seconds - as the gilded stranger came racing to her position.

Nukilik's tongue-tip rimmed her lips, another sign of deference - or rather, an apology. Was she not supposed to be here? Had she delved too far while studying this place, with its many scents and strange configurations? Judging from the fierce arrival of this woman, yes.

She needed to calm herself down. It had been months since her last interaction with another woman; there had been a few men in her travels, but none that lingered long, and few that treated her well. None had intercepted her with such investment, which was probably for her own benefit - she had ended her quest childless, after all.

A low sound pealed from her throat, something of a hum, a pleading tone. Her body was sickled against a backdrop of uneven rock as she tried to make herself smaller. I mean no harm! The green tempted me, I am nobody, please don't -- don't hurt me, she wished in that fervent moment that the last few months had never transpired.

so sorry D:

the stranger recoiled, fear on her voice. it laced through her scent, piercing erzulie's shield and mollfying the urge to strike. viper-pointed, the harlot held the young woman in her sights, tail lashing at her dark heels. "dis be de edge of rusalka," came her warning growl.
for a moment she maintained her tension, wondering if she might simply chase the interloper away, and then decided no. not this day. 
erzulie loosed the reins of threat, straightened. spice-ears tipped forward. this wolfess held a beauty that was easily beheld despite her cowering figure. only the scent of salt clung to her, lifted by the coconut-tinged air that wreathed along the shoreline. further satisfied, the seawolf tilted her muzzle.
"you be alone, girl?" the question was softer; mismatched gaze remained watchful, but erzulie's commanding air had settled into something more affable, hackles smoothed along her shoulders once more.