Porcupine Ridge luxuriant adonis is dying

a tree well? erzulie glanced down into the den and then back toward the stranger. "i be from de coas'line. perhaps dere is more to be learned here den i recalled." because the other had not indicated a stranger, the absence of this well, the seawife sank down gratefully into the fruits of her labour, settling against the other she-wolf.
"i be erzulie of sapphique," she told her compatriot. the two-toned gaze again traveled with curiosity across the face opposite her own. she was not in season, but still, men would be aggressive. bone-toothed and roving. it was good that they had found one another.
erzulie thought of the seacliffs and rosalyn, of her children there. she wondered if this heat would pass and be unabated by a man. the concept of this did not worry her or bring sorrow; if it was not meant to be, then it would not. 
even at its peak her body felt less sure of it this year. thankfully she knew it would only be a handful of days, and if she kept close to the mountains and in the shadows of long stones, she might be able to recoup the loss from her stupidity.
the woman tucked a paw under her chest and gazed out into the night.