Blackbeak Bluff a riot of stars shaken from their station

easier said than done, the harlot thought, though what emerged on her dark lips was: "i be erzulie." no surname; a wanderer even when she was not alone. recalling rosalyn fondly to her mind, the harlot mused for a moment on the blessing of the corsair's existence, before returning her attentions to helix.
wading into the shallows, she motioned the drageda wolf closer. if joined, erzulie began to sluice water over the wound with her jaws, lifting mouthfuls gently and letting it run from her lips across the crab-nip. it was perhaps closer than the harlot wished to be, perhaps closer than helix wanted, but she was a healer. and the jetfurred wolfess had agreed to her ministrations.