Silvertip Mountain one never learns how the witch became wicked

by now, surely, the wolves of ursus had made note of the oddity of @Merrick and @Astara's thirdborn child. perhaps it was to be expected; madness from madness, cultist father writ small and gilt in mother's bloodborne devilry.
but even the wicked roots which had brought asperas into being were seeded in innocence, once. their lethal mother, once an unruly youth whose greatest violence was an ill-fated tumble with a well-loved sister in pursuit of a butterfly; their demented father, once a toddling tyrant with no doubt toward sanity save the way he questioned his mother out of her own. depravity, born of raw humanity twisted by time and tragedy. asperas, however —

there was nothing twisted in asperas. no scars on her soul, no shattered shadowed places hidden in her heart. it was impossible, for the simple fact that she had been born without; born loveblind and deaf to sorrow, ice at the core of her and flame in her veins. and she would never mourn this lack, without any comparison, without any indication of an absence to be mourned. it was the only existence she knew, the only existence she would ever know.
or, it might have been.

in the sunfield, far from the caretaker’s den and shrouded in solitude, metamorphosis found the voidsent. the moment asperas’s mismatched eyes turned skyward, she knew instinctively that her world was changed forever.

a streak of amaranth overhead, then gleaming bone, then —

dread.

asperas ran.

the bear. he saw. he knew, he saw and he knew and now — !

blinding white, burning eyes. the air searing, breathing, buzzing. thunderous sound all around, crushing force centered on her chest.

the ground was not beneath her paws, asperas realized. another moment and it rushed, bruisingly, to meet thin shoulder and narrow hip, to crack against shadowcrowned skull. the spiderling twisted, heaving.

he saw me, he saw me, he sees me —

asperas fell limp, still save the steady rise and fall of windblown flank.

some distance away, still smoldering lightly, the bear-god’s curse: a glossy sphere cast down from the heavens. hidden. for now.

dated for 08/08/2021
a small meteorite fell & asperas was caught by the shockwave, but not seriously injured by it; this was only lightly researched so may not be accurate, i'm leaning on semi-realism here. anyone is welcome to find her, but please note that the meteorite isn't in the immediate vicinity

Vesta was nearby at this time, glancing the falling star as it shot earthward. 

She started trotting to investigate, only to see Asperas fly a few feet or so. 
Protective urges surged in her veins, thus sending Vesta to nose at the Voidsent's cheek and lick with a soft whine to see if the Unchild was alright. 

Are you okay?

hours passed, or... minutes? seconds? time turned liquid, flowed warm and sensuous around the snakeling, a lover's caress with razor talons sensed but not felt — for the moment.
here asperas stood on the precipice of change, staring into an endless sea of bloody revolution. perhaps one day, she would look back on this and see the moment she became something more than what she was meant to be; the moment life truly took hold of her. or perhaps she would not remember it at all.
a nose at one ink-stained cheek roused the night-pearl, then the rough warmth of a tongue. a shudder of revulsion washed over asperas, who jerked violently upright despite the tilting spin of the earth under her paws. a shock of pain clutched at something deep in her chest, eliciting a strained, breathy growl. in her head, endless echoing shrieks. horrors, she muttered, eyelids squeezing together. something was wrong, but she did not know what.

The Unchild rose soon enough with a small growl. To this, Vesta backed off, watching Asperas with a small tilt of her head at the mutter of Horrors.

Vesta had no words as always, though she chuffed softly and sat down as if to express the desire to hear about what was going on in the Voidsent's mind.

How can I help?

slowly the cultspawn regained her bearings, and lifted her head to look upon her father's follower with new eyes. an unspoken question lurked in the posture of the pale woman, who asperas now recognized as the one whose otherness had so offended her in the valley. now, the bearberry gave it little thought. she rose on shaky paws, face tilting skyward. bear, she said, both explanation and request. her gaze turned toward the crystalline cave, and with more intensity she repeated herself. bear.

The unchild is vague, in Vesta's eyes. But perhaps she didn't know fluidity of words like Merrick did. 
Then again it didn't seem the voidsent bearberry was the type to use words as seamlessly as the King does...

Bear. She says, first a whisper, then intense. Vesta looks toward the distance, where the meteor struck, then back to Asperas. Then again and back, as if asking: A sign from the Bear? In her wordless way.

agitation rose within asperas, a great wave of red swelling in her breast. if not for the weakness in her, she might have snapped once again at her father's warrior of ivory and crimson, and this time she would not have been deterred in her assault. but the unchild could not find in herself the strength for such violence, not now. instead, asperas gestured more vehemently in the direction of what they sought. cave, she tried. bear cave. the cave of crystal and color, that cursed place where the great grinning skull of the bear taunted her.

she needed to see him, and to let him see her; see that he had not broken her.

The agitation of the youth was noted with light sympathies. 
The shadow tried again, specifying the cave where the bear bones resided. A knowing, then, and Vesta nodded once, turning the direction of the cavern spoken and glancing to the bearberry. 

I will escort you