The pika had escaped sometime during the day, and Anatha took it as a sign that he thing had healed. She felt pride that she'd done something good, even if the rodent should fall prey to a hungry hunter the next day. There came to sadness when she'd found him gone, for she'd enjoyed having something, even something so small and bitey, to care for and protect. 

But it was night, now, and she curled carefully beneath her fallen log, the little nook sheltering her from the wind. And yet the night was oddly still - not even a single gust sought to invade her shelter, and the waning moon was accompanied by all its stars, made clear in the absence of clouds. It was not long before the girl fell heavy into sleep, and then she dreamed. 

The world was little more than blurred colour, and yet it did not matter. She knew, somehow, that she red shape before her was mother, the smaller, lighter shape her brother -  Elohim. She knew this now to be his name, had always known it, had she not? It had simply faded someplace, alongside the rest. She wanted, detachedly, for the colours to clear, the take shape and form, but something told her that this was not important. Molech is everywhere, Anatha.  She almost started at the clarity of the voice, the familiar syllables and sounds. This then was important, she knew at once, not the shapes and colors but the words. Molech is where you come from, sweet ones. Molech is our-. For a moment, the colors seemed to slide into place, and the outline of a muzzle, an eye-  

Awareness surged through her, and she started, pulling her muzzle from the snows. For a moment, she blinked at the darkness, despair washing over her. It had been important, the dream, wonderful, and if she had just stayed a little longer she may very well have remembered. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying forcefully to pull the blurred images back into her mind, but they slipped further away the more she grasped for them. But it did not matter, she realized - not when she understood, and some feeling of contentment replaced the despair, and silent she mouthed the name molech.  For a moment longer she was awake, basking, almost, in the feeling - and then she was asleep once more, sinking this time into vague and dull dreams, absent both of the blurred faces of her kin, and yet also of the clear face of the dark man.