Grouse Thicket And just a little too honest to believe that I am saved

hunger clawed at her belly, or perhaps it was the stone of guilt she had swallowed. the harlot moved through the forest along the trail of rosalyn's scent. 
erzulie had begun to rethink her earlier pride, despite the fact it cost her a great deal of self-face to do so. the days had grown more and more cold, and prey thinned. two wolves were more than capable in the summer; the chai-tea woman was unsure they would brave the harshest snows yet to come alone without suffering.
suffering — dead ahead the sound of snarling, rosalyn's raised voice. erzulie's hackles bristled; she was galvanized immediately by fear, and again the ache of her empty stomach. meat here, and her lover entangled with a honeyed thing almost oer'top it.
the harlot's immediate focus was the corsair's safety; she was silent as she leapt toward the pair, striking fiercely for the flashing maw of the stranger. a lip, the bridge of her nose; erzulie did not care, so long as she was driven back and away from rosalyn.