Little Goat Mountain It's grander than fiction, the life that we lead.

The young girl had not spotted the High Elk, had not been guided by him. It caused a frown to form over her mug and she nodded firmly. She had hoped that someone might have been able to find their God, that he might show them the path in this strange new land. For now, Odessa supposed, she would have to wait. 

Taking a step back, she sighs, her eyes narrowing on the heavy clouds. I can see that. It has been quite dreary. She would be left to think, perhaps, that the High Elk mourns the loss of the forest or perhaps due to his disciples being so separated. Mind showing me then where an old woman can rest her bones out of this?