Firestone Hot Springs but now the nightmares come again

ah. so there was some gristle to the pretty flesh. erzulie was silent as the girl began and ended her outpouring. she side-stepped the question put to her for the present. it was not something that begged to be hidden, but now — now the jezebel wished to focus upon harpsichord and her melancholy.
"some women were not meant to be mot'ers," came the kelpwitch's slow remark, sympathy filling her eyes. "entire tomes could be filled wid stories of children who suffered dat particular fate. i am sorry, girl," erzulie clucked softly. she knew the bitter taste of what harps had described, and it was not something anyone should suffer.
"but you are heah now. what are you going to do differently?" she inquired, eyelids half-mast against the rising steam of the springwater.