Bearclaw Valley djinn

the two descended a stair of stone and dew-studded grass, passing through the eaves of a grey willow that sat quietly with its long tendrils draping the forest floor. beyond the weeping face of the willow thistle and briar clambered for presence; they passed the snares of heather where the valley collected into a rarely disturbed depression that had been carved by the uncomprehending hands of glaciers melted long ago.

indra had remained silent during this time, pausing only to inspect the trail, partly faded in the grass. her expression was that of one contemplating. at last she spoke: "not sentimental. a trial." she skipped over mention of blondine. "to see if she foals black fawns in the spring."