Blacktail Deer Plateau His son would think his father could do no wrong

nieve was ever-hopeful, and erzulie had no heart to enforce the cruelties of realism in her gilded child. the names of the children who had disappeared, even before the sundering of the earth; her heart ached with each syllable she had spoken at birth. but the harlot said nothing, would only bury her pain deeply in the fetid soil of her sorrowful spirit.
a slow blink, the soft caress of a smile. "that is a wonderful idea," she murmured, thankful for the kindness that had come to be nieve's birthright. "this coast was always ours. it is fitting we make a little altar here."
an ofrenda, rosalyn might say — a place of remembrance. "what will you choose for yours?" the chai-tea wolfess inquired.