Dragoncrest Cliffs mwen chante kè ou

mireille's voice pealed from the den. val turned an ear behind him.

it pained him that they would never know the faces of their granmes. they would never know erzulie's laugh, or the sharp appraisal of rosalyn's single eye -- they would not know the long walks down the beach with them, or their warm embrace as they returned from a long and cold road.

only val and mireille and the rest of sapphique held these memories now.

he placed a still-warm hare by the den's hearth. it was not his place to enter without invitation, so instead val settled by the pinestraw beneath. if he slowed his breathing and closed his eyes, he fancied he could feel and see each squirming body as they wrestled against the cinnamon pelt of their mother.