Blacktail Deer Plateau I could use a day or two

a foolhardy mission, to come here. to bring her children here. gentle rain began to course the plateau as erzulie wandered its empty edges, her gaze compelled toward the sea. she hated it, and yet she could not keep her eyes from it, the vast darkened expanse that had overflowed its shores and swallowed that which she held dear.
there was little hope in her heart for rusalka; each day she considered bringing her brood to the neighboring pack, begging entry into a larger group, if only to save what resources there were. and she was not above paying for such things. in times of calamity, men always turned to the distraction of pleasure.
a voice.
the harlot paused, one small paw lifted, trembling above the cold ground.
rosalyn's voice, pouring over the snowy trees.
shaking, erzulie closed her eyes, breath coming harder. the sound of a ghost, she decided. not her wife returned, not her —
the sable fur, the sharp muzzle. erzulie stared in disbelief at nieve's golden frame, followed by the lanky figure of the wayward pirate.
rosalyn.
a sob, throat clenched save for a whine; she cast herself into a run and down and down and down!
the harlot fled into rosalyn's presence, then her embrace, mintglow eyes astream with tears, lips quivering wordlessly; it was all she could do to touch and to stare and to weep the stifled sobs of a desperate relief.