Barrow Fields and though half-blind with ravening

joined in her toils by the chai-spice female, caiaphas fell to picking through the soil with rough concentration. the willingness of the wych was noted, though not commented on - and for a while they ruminated in silence before erzulie spoke. 

it was a question charged with laborious answer; there was little she could say to explain her inexplicable pull to the sound, that would not sound hysteric or neurotic. she contemplated her words carefully, but in the end offered an indifferent (and counterfeit) shrug. it is habit. ive lived here nearly four years now. it is safe. even with the wolves above, it is isolated. wolves have to claw through forest to come here. the shores are full even in the height of lean winter - and the grotto is the perfect place for whelping. she fell quiet, shifting bits of earth back into the shallow depression she has gouged. do they worry you? i have settled here four times now. they are newer than they’d like you to believe - and last time, their bark was far more annoying than their bite.