Blacktail Deer Plateau all the things yet to come are the things that have passed

the herds must soon return, before the season. and she must sequester herself elsewhere. perhaps she would take nieve, maybe rosalyn. they would ward away the lusts of men, and pass into summer unscathed.
an aimless patrol, one of many, brought to her a tendril of scent she did not think she would have held again, followed by a girlish howl.  
long strides carried the harlot to the plateau's edge, where she beheld her prodigal daughter, claws caked with mud from the climb, carved sinewy and lighter by the famine. "clementine!" erzulie gasped, hurrying forward.
sweet child, have you come back to stay?