Ankyra Sound and the cries of your writhings shall rise

i SUCK

oh, but she did, she did. erzulie had not expected the question; her jaw tightened, gaze dipping toward the wet earth at the threshold of the den. "his name was octave. he was a wolf, an' my mot'er, roux, was a hybrid of sorts. dog and wolf." the pain of the telling threatened to suck erzulie into the morass of her own emotions, but she refused to break. "my mot'er took me into de bayou forest, an' there i met my fat'er for de first time. he was so kind," the harlot whispered, voice breaking as she paused to swallow the tears that had swam into her voice, into her eyes. "he took us to live wid his pack. but what use do pure wolves have for a half-dog baby?"
a bitterness coated her tongue. "dey ... did not like dat i or my mo'ter were dere. so my fat'er left de pack an' took us wid him. we lived for a short time by ourselves. a good time." a shuddering breath, another lapse into silence. "eventually de humans who had owned my mot'er came to hunt de wolves. de killed her an' my fat'er. i escaped."
unable to go on, erzulie fell to controlling the cries rising in her throat, quiet save for a strangled breath or two.