Twisted Slough An isle of flightless birds

the boy spoke, and erzulie was jarred. how long had it been since she had been so open? but in truth, she had never been; initiated into the trade when she was younger than this one appeared to be, the harlot had since led a life that had only made her wary. but perhaps — perhaps this day she could find it within her to be trusting.
"da sea, dat way," the honeycream wolfess murmured, gesturing with her slim muzzle toward the distant shoreline. they could not go back without ironsea, not even if the bear had gone; two of them alone would not survive the lash of winter ice. turning back, she regarded the boy warmly. "what about you?"
her teeth shone in a brief grin. "i enjoyed watching you chase dese smelly birds," erzulie went on, "even if dey did not like it."