Dragoncrest Cliffs it’s very easy to make this clear

the sea gave much and it took much in return. it had burnt haunt's eyes and not saved chacal from the slash across her face. worriedly she looked, but drew back all the same in silent acceptance of her jackal-girl's missive. it would be a scar, but something within her spoke, saying that this would be all right. chacal knew the waters.
admiration welling for her child, erzulie turned her attention back to the soaked snowfurred girl. nothing to be said; erzulie would offer no false reassurances about the way that the ocean worked. it would not call to each one, nor embrace them, and she saw the the sameness there between haunt and valravn. seeing it before her, how chacal had taken to the darkened lap and haunt had been blinded by it, the harlot saw the mistake in assuming it was only a matter of exposure.
all could not be born to the waves.
"let us get back," she urged in a voice roughened by salt. "come to my den." last year's dried things, transported; gathered; enough to make a poultice for the corners of the pearlwolf's eyes, and a paste that would serve to keep chacal's wound cleanly while she was upon land. 
gaze traced again to the deer, and she felt the same pull, but ignored it, drawing the younger two up along the beach.