Dragoncrest Cliffs it’s very easy to make this clear

mintglow eyes watched a young buck stagger weakly across the sand. so many were drawn by the sparse sea-grass, but this one was starving indeed to come into a land of wolves. 
exposure at the end of winter had assured that this one would not live. but even with the weakened legs, the antlers reigned, and erzulie knew it would take a combined effort.
the buck, spotting the obsidian and seeing his exit cut off by her appearance, lunged into the sea, not yet deep enough to be forced into the current.
a grin; this skill was one she could teach.

When @Vex told her he intended to leave, Haunt's immediate impulse was to drop everything she'd been building here in Sapphique to accompany him. They had always done everything together, including rebel against their mother's wishes, and Haunt couldn't fathom life without him. But then he told her he wanted to seek out other Tartoks, of all things. It was off-putting enough to give her pause, make her really think about whether she wanted to uproot and join her sibling on this endeavor.

She slept on it, for several nights, and though it was the most painstaking decision in her life, Haunt told Vex she couldn't go with him. Not only didn't she want anything to do with this specific venture of his, she had come to love her life in Sapphique. It would be tough, staying behind when he went out into the world, and Haunt was not above begging him to reconsider.

Ultimately, they made their own choices. He would go, she would stay. When it came time for him to disembark, Haunt made sure he knew she loved him and would think of him all the time. She couldn't be sure when they might see each other again—or if, though she couldn't even bear the thought—so she made sure they parted on good terms.

Now, she didn't know what to do with herself. Being here without Vex made Haunt's whole world tilt weirdly on its axis. She couldn't focus on her tasks, like tracking Broken Antler, when all she could do was rehash the events of the past few days. Often, she gazed forlornly in the direction he had gone, wondering if she had made the right decision. She had chosen, more irrefutably than ever, her own path over her family.

When she wandered aimlessly onto the beach, Haunt's mind was far from hunting. But the commotion startled her into a sudden sharp focus, lips parting as she watched Erzulie chase a stag into the surf. Despite her distraction, she quickly discerned that he wasn't a member of Broken Antler. Then all thought emptied the young huntress's head as she galloped across the sand to join her leader.

the deer padded in the surf, bleating a weakened warning. erzulie watched, approaching the lapping foam as haunt drew up beside her. a thousand words leapt to her tongue; explanation for their role here, soft soothings now that vex meant to leave them, setting haunt here alone; a gesture of praise.
but erzulie spoke none of those now. the pale girl was a fine hunter and learned quickly. she would not need verbal guidance, the obsidian believed. wondering if @Chacal would join them, for she had found her daughter's frequent seeking trails, the harlot watched their quarry.
terrified at the sight of another seawolf, he had cast himself into the ocean, and now swam in a futile cut toward the stone plinth just off-shore. erzulie entered the sharp cut of the waters at once; they were warmer now, though still fed by icemelt.
her legs churned strongly. she moved past haunt to keep herself between shore and prey, for as long as the animal remained in the ocean with no footing, the weaker it would become. slowly she drove it into deeper water, careful not to lose their intended target to a roiling sea-beast with rows of teeth.

While it was still her first impulse to trail after Valravn every time she crossed his scent, she had taken to stalking Haunt as well, given their shared interest in hunting. She was a bit frightened of the deer they'd observed together, having had little experience with them up close when they were still living. Smaller prey intimidated the young female less, so she had chosen to focus on stalking smaller creatures- but this did not mean that she wasn't still curious about stalking larger prey. And so, interested in seeing if Haunt might want to go and scout out Broken Antler again, she began following her pale friend's footprints along the shore until she caught sight of three forms ahead, skimming along the surf. 

She recognized them immediately as Haunt and her Maman, and looked to see a buck in the water, which surprised her. Why would a deer have strayed close enough to the ocean that it could be pinned there, between the current and such keen fangs? Regardless of how the situation had come about, Chacal felt spurred on to join them out of both fondness and a bit of boosted confidence, feeling a bit more secure knowing that the hooved herbivore was now facing three wolves- including her beautiful, wild mother- and had the sea at its back. 

She flew across the sand with the gentle, steady four-beat patter of her feet, and skimmed over the shallow, frothy surface of the water before plunging into the salty waves like a dark arrow. The deer looked as though it had been heading toward the small, wave-ravaged brick of stone, but it would have to swim through deep water to get there- and it would still be cornered if it made it. She surged forward against the waves which sought to push her back to the shore, but they split against her narrow chest and wove around her, slicking her dark fur against her sides. She kept her head above the water, pushing her nose above the waves so that she could still see where Haunt and Erzulie were, and avoid getting water in her windpipe.

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.

haunt did not enter the water, a fact that did not escape erzulie. but she would not force it now. a curve of her lips just above the saltdark surface welcomed chacal, who entertained no such reservations. she was indeed a strong swimmer, a golden aspiration for any seawolf. but she did not dwell upon her praise for long; the harlot turned her attentions back to their intended.
the buck had come close to the shelf of rock but there he would find no purchase for his hooves. had it been only she and chacal, she might have drowned it there. but erzulie wished to include haunt, and so when the deer bleated, choking and beginning to struggle in the sea, the obsidian cleared his path. the last of its strength carried the animal desperately toward the shore; she curved her own path to intersect, and before cloven feet found purchase in the sand, she surged forward sharklike to drag its nose beneath the water.
at this point, the pale girl might be able to join them; it would take more efforts than her own to keep the beast below the waves.

Just as she had expected, the creature attempted to find a safe haven from the marine predators amongst the barnacle-covered bounders, but with its fur weighted by seawater and its hard hooves, it could not pull itself up. Cornered, Chacal thought, against the tide-breaking boulders and with no way of pulling itself out from their grasp. Her lips pulled back in a grin. This deer was much less intimidating, knowing that it had to swim in order to stay afloat, and that it would potentially be much less dangerous now that it was out of its element. 

But Haunt had not joined them- she'd only noticed such when she saw her mother turn away, taking pressure off the deer they had herded out and away from the shore. Chacal moved forward as she saw the deer begin to head for shore again, thinking it best to cut the deer off but when she noticed that the deerstalker had not joined them, she too altered her course so that the deer could be allowed to swim back toward the shoreline- but not without the escorts swimming close by, and with one hunter still facing it on land. 

Erzulie moved in and dragged the deer's head underwater, and Chacal was at its side a moment later. The water was still deep enough she could not touch- so she three herself across the deer's shoulders, and clamped onto the back of its neck with her jaws. Erzulie too would need to lift her head to breathe at some point, and if she did, Chacal wanted to make sure that the deer could not get more than a gasp of air as it fought beneath the pull and weight of the wolves.

Together, mother and daughter began to herd the stag back toward the shoreline. Haunt raced alongside, yellow eyes riveted on his trajectory. Before he could reach the shallows, the she-wolves converged on him, pulling him underwater. The pale yearling now pranced on the spot, willing them to drag him nearer, uncertain if they could without her help.

Despite herself, Haunt coiled her haunches and sprang rather gracelessly into the icy waves. She yelped as the temperature stung like a slap, saltwater closing over her head. But she kicked her legs and broke through the surface, paddling choppily toward the deer and incidentally ramming right into it before the tide tugged her off to the side.

"I can't," Haunt shouted to her pack mates, eyes squeezed shut against an unexpected burning as she swam in entirely the wrong direction. "I can't see." Was this what it was like to be the blind witch?

haunt, in the water. chacal, hanging onto the buck that surged, even weakly, under their combined heft. without two securing it, the animal might cause injury to one of them. in a swift moment she had changed her target; water snorted from her nostrils as she moved in an attempt to herd chacal away from legstroke of the animal.
in the next moment she had cut into the current from her daughter's side, lunging for haunt's nape before the saltblindness led the pale girl deeper into a current for which she was not ready. deer aplenty upon these shores and in the forests, in the tangled morass behind their lands. they could be found again; haunt perhaps could not wait to be caught back from the waves.
when she had hopefully pulled them back to the first touch of sand beneath paw, erzulie coughed and lifted a streaming head to search fervently for chacal.

Chacal was buoyant as both the stag and the current bucked beneath her. Having found her purchase at the creature's shoulder she sank her fangs into its flesh so that she clung to the creature, like a dark strand of deadly, weighted kelp as her mother strove to keep the beast's muzzle below the seafoam. Over the waves came a cry, though, that replaced the expected impact of weight and strength from their third accomplice whose plea was dashed from bellowing lungs by the ocean's pounding waves. The waves nearest the shore, after all, could sometimes be the hardest ones to surge past. 

She was caught by surprise but failed to spot Haunt immediately, or comprehend where she had disappeared to, so she clung tighter still to the stag, using it to keep herself afloat, and tried to pick her packmate out out until she felt something smack against her shoulder. The impact broke her grip, and shoved her sideways toward the animal's head which breached above the water, gasping. Chacal swallowed a mouthful of water and resurfaced with a wheezing, gurgling inhale just past the stag's shoulder. 

With a movement deft and animalistic, the stag's head lowered and it sprayed Chacal with a breath of blood and foam its muzzle. Delirious from oxygen deprivation, it eyed the dark wolf as she recoiled in the waves in time to see her mother swimming away, toward where she could see a pale shadow below the water's surface. Now free from the cinnamon hunter's clutch, it put to use those dagger-like tines. Moments before the stag's antler raked against her face, tearing a jagged strip of flesh all the way from  the point of her shoulder to her temple, she would feel the icy stab of dread, wondering if her friend would resurface and breathe again.

The slashing motion would roll her over, but she began paddling for the shore, for her Haunt and her mother, the instant the sea salt began to sear at her wound. Choking and trembling from the shock she stumbled from the waves and into the shallows where the waves that had threatened to drown her friend pounded at her, knocking her sideways and back toward the land where she would falter under the weight of water that had saturated her pelt. She staggered almost blindly toward her mother and Haunt, leaving a trail of bloody foam in her wake.

Haunt couldn't possibly make much sense of the next few moments, especially temporarily robbed of eyesight. She experienced drag, impact, pressure... and seawater in just about every orifice. By the time Erzulie dragged her back onto the shore, her sides were billowing as she coughed and eventually retched what felt like a gallon of salty bile.

She slumped on the beach, trying to catch her breath and regain use of her eyes. But every time Haunt tried to wrench them open, they burned. She began pawing at them, which only made matters worse when she incidentally rubbed sand in them.

erzulie saw the blood, saw chacal's face, scarred by the bucktine. the animal itself had followed the sodden wolves onto the shoreline, staggering behind them, and now stood trembling and bleating with salt-scoured throat. anger boiled through erzulie: at herself for letting go of the creature while chacal had not gotten away, at the sea for betraying them, at the deer that had injured her daughter.
she urged the jackal-girl to her side, using the interim to lap at haunt's eyes, replacing seawater with a far kinder cleansing. "it be de firs' t'ing you master out dere," she assured grimly, though her brush of affection was warm as she turned to chacal. "oh, cher," the harlot huffed in dismay and frustration, though the way she leaned forward to clean the broken skin of the antler-slash would assure her child that neither emotion was meant for chacal herself.

She was shaken and trembling, and it was the way of a head wound to bleed but the wound itself was little more than skin-deep. A slash that parted her fur and skin and would remind her of the dangers that came with hunting deer, so that she might learn to respect the keen sting of their dagger-like tines. Otherwise, though, she was thrilled from having been a part of a hunt that had been new to her- and while she was tired, a part of her wanted to renew their chase and hunt the deer until it fell to its knees. She'd been given a taste of the thrill of deerhunting- and she'd liked it. 

She remained obediently at her mother's side while her wounds were tended to, though she wondered if the sea had not already done a good part of cleansing her wounds which stung, but were free of sand and debris. She nudged her mother's chin, and forced her tail to wave so that she might reassure her mother that she would be alright. She uttered a soft, purling growl of thanks. Like those she was born to, her skin was tougher than sharkskin- and she placed the blame on the deer itself, not her mother or the sea that had otherwise kept her from being gutted completely. 

She moved to Haunt's side, and went to tuck herself against her- but then reconsidered the action, and moved to Haunt's other side, so that the blood that still seeped from her sounds would not stain the pale woman's fur. She nosed at Haunt's cheek, offering a soft whine of reassurance for her friend who she felt should feel no shame for having been bent back by the waves.

She quit scrubbing at her eyes when Erzulie pressed her tongue to her face, stilling to let the Obsidian wash away the irritating grands of sand and salt alike. When she finished, Haunt could just barely peel her eyes open without feeling a gritty, stinging sensation. She kept them reduced to slits, squinting between Erzulie and then Chacal. They went a little wide when the latter pressed close, fixing on the girl's wound.

Ignoring the prickling in her eyes, she suddenly whipped her head around to locate the stag. She pushed into a crouch when she saw him flagging further down the beach. The three of them were really in no condition to resume the hunt, even though he might've been much easier prey now. Haunt couldn't stop staring, her eyes soon watering and forcing her into a series of rabid blinks.

As she stood there, eyes, nose and throat burning, fur sopping wet and now crusted in sand, Haunt couldn't help but think of how much she despised hunting in or near the sea. The leadership swore that it had much to offer in way of fare, yet Haunt had never yet tasted seafood she enjoyed. And this experience was all the more damning. Unless they explicitly instructed her otherwise, she would be avoiding the seaside from this day forward.

Slowly, she returned her gaze to Chacal's split visage. "Are you okay...?" she questioned hoarsely, a sour look fixing on her own disheveled face as an intrusive thought crossed her mind. Perhaps she should've gone with Vex after all, avoided this whole situation and put the godforsaken ocean in her rear view mirror. Hindsight was a bitch.

the sea gave much and it took much in return. it had burnt haunt's eyes and not saved chacal from the slash across her face. worriedly she looked, but drew back all the same in silent acceptance of her jackal-girl's missive. it would be a scar, but something within her spoke, saying that this would be all right. chacal knew the waters.
admiration welling for her child, erzulie turned her attention back to the soaked snowfurred girl. nothing to be said; erzulie would offer no false reassurances about the way that the ocean worked. it would not call to each one, nor embrace them, and she saw the the sameness there between haunt and valravn. seeing it before her, how chacal had taken to the darkened lap and haunt had been blinded by it, the harlot saw the mistake in assuming it was only a matter of exposure.
all could not be born to the waves.
"let us get back," she urged in a voice roughened by salt. "come to my den." last year's dried things, transported; gathered; enough to make a poultice for the corners of the pearlwolf's eyes, and a paste that would serve to keep chacal's wound cleanly while she was upon land. 
gaze traced again to the deer, and she felt the same pull, but ignored it, drawing the younger two up along the beach.

Haunt seemed to be in pain; Chacal couldn't really interpret the message behind the scowl of her face, but thought it was from the sting of the salt that had gotten into her eyes. It was even worse when it could get in under the eyelids, and if the waves were harsh enough to turn up sand in their curling blows, it would have made things worse. Chacal nodded, and hummed an affirmative note, reaching over to lick her friend's cheek, to reassure her and ease her concerns. She was still filled with adrenaline and would feel the pain and stiffness of her wounds later- but for the present time, the sale waters had washed them clean enough and had cooled her skin enough to ease the pain temporarily. 

But she would take her mother's lead and follow her back to her den, assuming that she might be treated with medicines to fight off infection. Like the others, she too spared a glance for the stag, which would live another day, it seemed. But she stared at it hungrily for a moment, licking the salt from her lips a final time, before she followed her mother. The stag's days would be numbered, if it continued to roam along their shores.