Moonspear jingle jangle

The clouds were falling.

Yama couldn’t remember what she was doing before noticing the falling flakes. From the moment it began, her attention was captured—and into a trance it casted her, an unbreakable stare at the sky above. She moved still, venturing across the land, trying to see where—if—it ended. And each time she stood still, the snow collected across her, painting the child a pristine white; a shiver shook her to the core but she continued onward nevertheless, conscious absent and mind no longer acknowledging what she was seeing.