Bearclaw Valley and this is the day, i die for it

she was still tormented by the scent that hounded her, following her doggedly like a rabid lurcher - coursing through the cold air with her, permeating every aspect of her life in a deep and hazy fog. she could not rid herself of it -- she still did not understand the change that had overcome her, and as of late had resolved to bitter jaunts that favorited isolation.

two days ago she had seen a white stag on the mountains. as she followed it, it left no cloven half-moon prints in its wake, the snow uninterrupted by its passing. it disappeared behind the sedge-laden slope of a rocky rise and as she crested it all that remained around her was the scouring wind and a bitter cold that seeped her bones.

today, indra set out for that spot again -- this time intent to catch whatever winter spirit it was that had visited her. she thought perhaps the changes in her body could be explained that way --  perhaps she was kept by a malign star, and that was the reason for her misery as of late.