Kintla Flatlands it will come back

She appears to be distracted by something wedged in the earth. The power in her forequarter is unmistakable; even though she is young, sharply contoured with a lean muscle that marks her as a coastal wolf, she manages to uproot her target. He doesn't let his attention drift to the object; he is too busy studying the girl, feeling—well, he isn't sure. He has no connection to her so there isn't a sense of familiarity or familial attachment; he does find her appearance jarring though, partly because she looks so much like Erzulie, but also because she reminds him of Niamh, vague though such memories were to him. She did not look like him, did not move like him.

And then she was scrambling back from her well-fought prize, and Firefly glances to the branch with a raise of his brow, then a frown. It isn't a root or a branch she has unearthed but a limb, and it had far more fur than what he anticipated. He steps closer to investigate and in that moment she wheels around, affixes her eyes upon him, looking gaunt and pale as if he is death come to reap her soul, or something.

Who are you? She says with a hasty look at him, although Firefly doesn't notice that she's counting his legs to make sure they are all attached. He doesn't know what to say, so the first thing that pops in to his mind flees out of his open mouth: Firefly. I'm a friend of Rusalka, and your mothers. But almost immediately he regrets giving his true name; what if Erzulie and Rosalyn, or even Caiaphas, had told their brood of their wayward father? What if they cursed his name, spoiled their minds against him? He realized then, painfully too late, that he'd royally fucked up by leaving them as he had.

But then, if they did loathe him, he could easily make an escape. Nothing tethered him to the coast anymore - not even blood.