Dragoncrest Cliffs it’s very easy to make this clear

erzulie saw the blood, saw chacal's face, scarred by the bucktine. the animal itself had followed the sodden wolves onto the shoreline, staggering behind them, and now stood trembling and bleating with salt-scoured throat. anger boiled through erzulie: at herself for letting go of the creature while chacal had not gotten away, at the sea for betraying them, at the deer that had injured her daughter.
she urged the jackal-girl to her side, using the interim to lap at haunt's eyes, replacing seawater with a far kinder cleansing. "it be de firs' t'ing you master out dere," she assured grimly, though her brush of affection was warm as she turned to chacal. "oh, cher," the harlot huffed in dismay and frustration, though the way she leaned forward to clean the broken skin of the antler-slash would assure her child that neither emotion was meant for chacal herself.