Seaside Moors Chere, mo lemmé toi

@Erzulie

Something in the air had changed. 

She couldn't pinpoint what it was, having experienced so very little yet, but with the summer's warmth waning, and the days growing shorter, the young filly had begun to notice that with the long nights came a cold, and in the mornings what might otherwise have been dew had begun to turn to frost. In the hazy light of gloaming, she could see her breath on the air, like little clouds of whispers. She exhaled, and watched as the silvery wisp disappeared almost immediately; it wasn't cold enough for it to longer long yet. But the pale sprite of breath was still indication enough to Chacal that change was in the air. 

Still, she padded out along the moors, breathing in the cool brackish air that flitted in from the western coconut grove, feeling herself becoming invigorated by the chill that it sent up her spine. Lazily, a little fly buzzed past her muzle, enticing her to snap at it playfully, missing by a few inches. Willingly following the dizzying, whirling and erratic patterns of the autumn-drunk fly, she whirled and spun, as spry and light on her feet as a fawn prancing through a meadow.

*shoves this somewhere vague in the timeline*

winter would soon be upon them. it was to the shadewood erzulie considered returning. it had protected rusalka during the rains; it would do well for the snow. too open here upon these flat plains of seaflowers and sedges. 
her two-toned gaze turned toward chacal. erzulie had come upon her daughter and now watched the youngest babe of this year frolick alone in her self-made happiness.
what would life bring for this one, she wondered. not yet drawing forward; she opted to remain as she was, some feet away with a gentle sway to her cinnamon-blanched plume.

@Rosalyn mama also welcome <3

She continued to gallop this way and that, leaping with outstretched paws to try and clap the fly between them, though in part she wasn't interested in causing the creature harm or doing something that might end the fun she was having. So she missed, and leapt- and missed again, though the fly began to truly begin to resent all the energy it was using, and eventually drifted far too high into the air for her to catch, leaving Chacal to make a few last leaps, before she landed awkwardly, with a dull thump, to her hindquarters once again. She lost sight of the fly and it was just as well, as she'd become quite dizzy. 

She at first saw two forms watching her, both with mismatched eyes- until they twisted and melded togeher into the shape of her Maman. Shaking her pelt out, and testing to see how dizzy she still was, she meandered back toward her mother before she abruptly stopped, and dipped into a play bow, huffing out a breath of air in a quiet, but playful challenge.

a grin broke across the thoughtful features of the jezebel. musical. inclined to dance. these were the marks of a well-made courtesan, but that was never an arena in which any child of hers would serve. mirroring the bow, she barked once, a sharp sound that was carried off by the ever-present wind, and laughed, leaping sidelong.
in her head, the memory of the song they had once sung together, and how forevermore its notes would be tied to chacal. another yip, and the chai-tea she-wolf was floating in a semi-circle through the heather, darting to nip at her growing littlest.

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With a toss of her head, Chacal reared out of her play-bow and bounded sideways, mirroring her mother's movements though perhaps with a little bit less grace. She was adorably awkward in her bold, high steps and bounding movements, like a filly testing out its long, knobbly legs for the first time. When her mother yipped, she snapped her own jaws together, mimicing the gesture she'd made but in a silent pantomime.

When she felt the brush of air near her bony hip she whirled in circles, lashing her hindquarters away and out of reach, but continued to whip in circles, tighter and tighter until she ended up clamping her teeth down on the feathery fur at the very tip of her own tail. Grinning, and with her eyes wide with surprise, she hobbled around in a circle to gaze at her mother, as though to show off what she'd just done.

tighter and tighter the dance grew, until a truely unchained laugh rose from erzulie's throat. gone the constraints of the day, of yesteryear; gone for a moment the ever-present ache that climbed through her at the memory of all her eldests, dispersed to the four corners of the world.
she mimicked chacal, whirling round and round until her own plume was seized carefully between her experienced jaws. consumed by the silliness of it, she chuckled beyond her clasp of fur and inched sideways, a weirdly shaped crab wrapped around itself.

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Struggling to keep her balance with her body curved in such an arc, Chacal stumbled slightly as she watched her own mother whirl in circles, until she was able to catch a hold of her own tail. This, to say the least, pleased Chacal beyond belief. She grinned, and uttered soft huffing noises (through the silken strands of her tark tail) and she beamed at her mother. She enjoyed it when they could play games where they imitated each other- either in pose, or in the sounds they made. It made Chacal feel seen, understood.

She leaned forward so that she could stumble sideways and directly toward her mother, hoping to wriggle her way into the tight donut-hole that had been created by Erzulie grabbing at her own tail. She was forced to let go of her own as she wiggled and squirmed her way around her mother's feet, dipping below her throat to try and snuggle herself into this new kind of hug where she could be embraced on all sides.

it was good to laugh, to dance, to be silly. erzulie could not recall that she had done such with her earlier brood. perhaps this the benefit of being the younger child. 
perhaps, then, erzulie would too be finished.
ah — but she had always left it up to the season, and to the man. if it fell to her again, erzulie planned to go far and away, to find some scandalous devil who would shy from fatherhood and thus leave her to raise a brood with her wife in the peace that accompanied the absence of men.
chacal was dancing under her chin; giggles burbled from the harlot's throat, and she held tighter to her own plume, holding her little jackal close and close and close, until the child's wriggling broke her hold and she came away laughing.

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Like a fish, Chacal wriggled and flailed in her mother's clutch until she practically burst free and stumbled away, breathy gasps like an airy chuckle spilling from her muzzle as she did so. Little, tiny traces of vibrations were coaxed from her vocal chords, though the sounds were short and unexpected, and disappeared as suddenly as they'd come. She seemed almost unaware completely that she'd made any noise at all, and carried on, bounding and leaping, without having paid any attentio whatsoever to her recent accomplishment.

She became distracted, however, when she caught the scent of something on the air, and lowered her muzzle to investigate, though the creature- a mouse- had been so small it left no visible footprints behind. She huffed, swiping her tongue over her nose and lips to wet them, and began to stray away from her mother, head down and tailtip swaying in the air like a little flag, signalling that she was hot on the trail of something.

chacal was without words outside of music, but she was not silent. erzulie found the inclination toward a more primal way of being a refreshment, and was happy to untie her own need for speech from the day. spice ears came up as her daughter set off, tracking something across the flat moors.
the harlot came along directly, her own senses identifying the quarry in a practiced way. but she would not aid chacal unless it was needed; intrigued to see if her child would come to the end of the trail, erzulie followed.
she was reminded of solaire's own first hunting, arcelia's questions. how swiftly they grew. and how swiftly time came for them all, etching years away from one to give to another.

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There was something distinct that she'd begun to notice about the scents she experienced, and how the more time she focused on her trade, the more she noticed that each different creature had a different smell. It could tell her the species and sometimes the gender of the creature, should they leave behind a marking. She could track something quite easily if it was bleeding, or if something about it smelled stale and off, then she knew it might have been infected and therefore easier to catch. The individual wolves in the pack each carried their own scent, which had natural trademarks but was also influenced by their travels. A wolf visiting the shoreline would carry the scent of salt and seaweed in their fur, and one from the woodlands might smell more like cedar. While the world was beautiful enough just to her eyes, she also found that the scents she was beginning to learn to identify were just as diverse and exciting.

She began to trot through the scrubby moors, following the scent trail toward the tuft-like lavender bushes that grew in clumps, stopping to sniff a bit longer at one or two of them, occasionally looking back at her mother excitedly. She could smell the mouse much more now- and she knew she was getting close. So when she found a small hole at the base of a clump of sea lavender, she thrust her littl nose into it, only to find that she could smell the mouse, but she couldn't possibly see it. She flopped to the ground and peered in, and clicked her teeth together as she huffed. All this tracking- and the mouse had hidden itslf away in its burrow like a coward! This would not suffice.

Like a young filly she tossed her head, and crow-hopped sideways to express her disapproval, before she launched herself at the tiny hole in the ground, and began to dig furiously, kicking back pawful after pawful of light coloured sand and earth, hoping she could eventually dig her prey out.

each of chacal's excited glances were greeted by a warm expression from her mother, a coo, a cluck. eventually the little jackal discovered the frustrating truth about the end of a mouse's trail: that it ends in a burrow. hiding her amusement, erzulie was impressed by her daughter's fixed design upon her quarry.
"very good," she murmured, pausing some feet away to strike the earth with her own paws, hoping to help send the terrified rodent back down its lair and up into chacal's waiting jaws. for that was the first rule among packwolves: to work together was an imperative thing each child must learn.

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While she was quite fixated on unearthing the creature- the burrow couldn't be that deep could it? Mice were only teensy tiny things....- her mother roved around, making aubidle paw steps and stamps, which caused Chacal to pause in her digging for a moment to observe the behavior. She cocked her head t the side, unsure what her mother was doing until she came to the realization that perhaps she was trying to scare the mouse back toward the entrance of the tunnel- and back toward her. This made her jig with excitement, and without a second thought, a string of burbling jargon came from her mouth.

“Ah tsee malère im p-p-prrovre, all da giddjem: m-m-m-mouse.”

She seemed fairly unaware of how odd she might have sounded, and didn't seem to realize that the complete thought that she'd had in her head had somehow ended up completely tangled beyond belief when she'd tried to speak it out loud. She had noticed it- and it caused her to falter slightly before managing to form at least one sensible word. But she was distracted, and perhaps a bit overwhelmed, too. Something hadn't worked right; that wasn't what she'd meant to say. And her voice had been tuneless, not mimicking a song at all. In cadence, it resembled a complete thought- after all, she had had one, and she had had something that she wanted to say- but for some reason, when she'd tried to speak it out loud...It'd all come out wrong.

But her focus had not been shaken- and she dove back toward the hole, and began digging with renewed fury.

erzulie's ears swung forward in surprise; she stared at chacal for a long moment of blossoming delight. always, the little jackal surprising her. a flash of her teeth in a great smile. "sourit la ap vin jwenn ou." to hear the language coming from the child; the sound of home embodied in the small figure.
she had noted chacal's brief consideration; perhaps only a mother knew how to sort the woven babble of childhood. and she had faith that with practice her child wpuld be able to disentangle it further. and perhaps it would not be greatly formal, though erzulie was shocked by the layered thought that had come from chacal.
for now, she reared and struck the ground again, a little ways up from her first locale.

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When her mother spoke, it was with clear words that had a pattern, a meaning, and with a tone that changed from word to word giving the sentence life. She could understand exactly what it was that her mother was telling her- that if she waited, the mouse would come to her. Chacal was perfectly capable of understanding communication in both languages, and hardly noticed when there was a switch between the two as her comprehension by now was pretty much complete. But why was it when she had spoken, her words had sounded like words- but they hadn't been what she'd intended to say. She could hear the difference between the words her mother had said, and the jumble of jargon that had come from her.

“S-s-sourielle,” She whispered, as her mother thumped the ground with her feet. Again, it hadn't been the word she'd intended. Close, but something had gone wrong and her lips and tongue had created something that sounded very much like it could be a word- but...It hadn't been the right one. Her disappointment made her balk slightly, but she squeaked in surprise when a small, mouse-grey creature scuttled suddenly from the den and straight between her paws. Instinctively, she snatched it, grabbing the creature with her jaws before she lost herself in a whirlwind of excitement and with a flick of her head, sent the crushed mouse flying off into the shrubs. It soared a good ten feet or more where it landed out of sight with a soft thump.

She was still a moment before she bounded off toward it, and found it within moments. She was hesitant to touch it again, though she'd killed it the moment she'd grabbed it with her jaws. She bounced around it excitedly. “Ma-ma-oo! Ee-ta moo-mmmmooss...Arrr bien-tôt makimm suh-suh-sourielle!” She exclaimed, finally coming to a stop and stamping her paw. That wasn't the right word. “Suh, suh....mm, mmmm, murr,” It wasn't there. The word for it wasn't there, though she was staring right at the creature. And she could hear her mother's voice saying it. For having had a successful hunt, she looked plenty disappointed in herself.

whatever her introduction to words had become, chacal moved with an instinctive swiftness toward the mouse. her baby teeth flashed; erzulie smiled indulgently, and then chuckled a sound of surprise as they both watched the tiny body arc against the open sky. when chacal followed, her mother came along, winkling out the sounds that came frustrated and clasped together from her daughter's mouth.
almost there. "sourit," she pronounced, repeating it twice as she nudged the tiny limp body. "sourit la mouri." again twice more for chacal's benefit, more slowly on the last time. and then she, hoping it was the word for which the little hunter sought, looked in her child's direction.

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Her mother repeated the word, and Chacal watched as her lips moved, as her tongue moved, and the way the word was formed. She knew the word- she could feel the word in her mind, she could practically feel it begging to come straight out of her mind and into the open air between them, but there was something in between the way she could hear the word in her mind- spoken in her mother's voice- and how she worked her mouth. She opened and closed her jaws a few times, as though chewing thoughtfully- but no sound came forth. It was as though she'd forgotten how to make her voice work, and then it clicked- and her vocal chords thrummed into use.

“Sssss....Mmmm...SSuh, Sssssss, t-t-t-t-tssss” She attempted, before she shook her head, but for all the encouragement her mother gave her, she owed it another attempt. “Ssssszzzzzz. Zzzz, nnnnn, no.” She said, becoming frustrated again. She nudged the mouse with her foot. “Tué” She spat, and she maintained her soured expression for a moment before she realized that something had worked- and her ears flicked forward. While one word hadn't worked- another one had, and it was at least somewhat relevant. It had come from her without a great deal of pre-meditation, which was what caught her by the most surprise. How was it that she could focus on a word so much only to be denied the ability to speak it, while another one came to her without a moment's consideration? She wasn't sure how to feel about it, and looked up at her mother in surprise. What was going on?

erzulie watched with cinnamon brow slightly furrowed. chacal could not say the word, it seemed, and this upset her child. the pull was present, the flesh could not follow. knowing that this was beyond the limitations of her ability to help, the harlot came forward, nosed the back of chacal's round little head.
"pa enkyetew. mo ap vini." to her knowledge all the children of the year understood and spoke pidgin and french. they also would help their sibling, as would rosalyn's guidance and knowledge of said words.
therefore while she had sympathy for the current struggle, erzulie saw an easier future for her girl, and sought to comfort her with a deep embrace.

She sighed softly as she was reassured, and leaned into her mother's embrace. It was frustrating, having a blank space where words simply disappeared between thought and speech. And it was almost worse when words came- but they weren't real, or they weren't the right word. She couldn't remember what it had been like listening to her siblings begin to form words- she'd been too young, and those memories faded like lines drawn in the sand. She wasn't sure if they'd gone through the same thing- but something told her that she was different. That realization hadn't necessarily occurred to her, as she had been accepted and loved regardless of the fact that she hadn't spoken until recently. She was fortunate, but at the same time, she felt a deep disappointment in herself for being so far behind the others. 

So eventually, she pulled away from her mother, and quietly regarded the mouse she'd caught. She'd almost forgotten about it; and it cheered her up to remember that she had accomplished something. Her expression lifted a bit, and she reached down to nudge the mouse gently, rolling it toward her mother, in a wordless offering of gratitude.

it did not seem that chacal would be long repressed, and here arrived the soft grey little body, bumbling end over end. another time, erzulie might have lightly declined, wishing chacal to taste the fruits of her own labour. but this interlude had been less for the kill itself, and more for the words that her child had wanted to speak.
and so grasped by the spirit of entertainment, she caught up the mouse, tossed it in a gentle arc, and made short work with another close of her jaws. "very good, chacal," she sighed, coming over to nudge the girl again before darting away in a playful air.

It would be the beginning for her to learn how she could express herself, and would cultivate an image in her mind of herself that she had never really noticed before. She had never considered herself different simply because she hadn't spoken, but now...Now she'd begun to notice just how much language meant to others, and how difficult it was for her to make her thoughts into words. 

But it did cheer her up to see her mother accept her gift, tossing it into the air and snatching it with such finesse, that she thought surely- she could learn how to be as graceful as her mother. And perhaps, then, she might not have such need of words after all. So when her mother bounded off, she jigged sideways merrily, leaving behind the rough, tumble of words she'd jostled, and began to chase after her mother with the bounding grace of a young doe.