Dragoncrest Cliffs Still going, if only a vehicle for merino wool.

The physical recovery of Heidr had not been too difficult. It was a surprise every morning that she woke with less and less pain, or with more scabs and scars than open wounds. She ate when @Erzulie brought her the medicines or when @Njord stopped by to check in on her. Sometimes late at night, if the pain came and was too much, she would stay up late and stare at the sky for answers.

Today, while the cliffs were shrouded in a fine cold mist, and the grass was glittering with ice, Heidr had tried to repay some of that kindness by going for a hunt. She walked with a limp for short spurts. The combination of the growing cold-front and increased presence of dark clouds (and thus the air pressure) made her joints ache as if she were older than the millennium.

Still, she wouldn't stop trying to hike her way along the cliff's edge. The distant sound of the sea booming against the earth was ominous in its own right, while the frigidity in the air made her haunches quiver every so often. She did not recognize the scents of any mice, squirrels, or deer along the way, and came to a stop at the edge of the world, to stare out at the muddy darkness of the horizon.

erzulie followed her patient. these days, she loathed very much to be far from her mate.
the words she had spoken to njord filled her mind insistently.
when the injured woman stopped, the obsidian stepped to her flank.
the frigid air bit at her but she did not respond.
heiðr spoke words the woman did not know in a language she had not heard before.
"she be de judge of us all," erzulie said reverently of the ocean.

Heidr was breathing heavily. She only noticed because of the plume of white that appeared to seep out of her crooked jaw. The cold was not disagreeable to her.

When the healer woman came to her side Heidr glanced her way with a bow, her ears pivoting to the sound of their voice, the odd accent that warmed it.

Her brow creased, unable to understand. These sounds from Erzulie were different from Njord, or from herself, so far as she could discern.

"you know njord." she searched the other's face for recognition. "i be erzulie. my wife is rosalyn. an' dis is sapphique."
she gestured toward the expanse of saltrock and climbing cliff-trails.
"where?" she tipped her head, the universal sign of a question.

Njord. Erzulie. Rosalyn; they ran together in a heap when they flowed from the woman's mouth. Sapphique too, but, Heidr knew that was a place. This place.

Where? It sounded close enough to something she recognized — hvar.

Still, she shook her head and looked dejectedly out to sea. Somewhere out there was the answer. The only words that Heidr knew at this point were Njord and Sapphique, which prompted her to hum softly to herself, thoughtfully, and then murmur: Norð...

And then she looked to the north, as a gust of wind blew overhead.

Norðanvindur— was that the way home?

erzulie did not try to say the word that the woman spoke. so she was from the cold north. the obsidian nodded in understanding of that much at least. "you will heal through winter. snow," she added, glancing to the threatening skies. "after, you will be ready to go home if it is what you be wishin'."
she was a mysterious gift from the sea. erzulie would enjoy knowing more of her words, watching the she-wolf piece together her own past.