Bearclaw Valley Your name on my lips, tongue tied

A voice in the dark startles Indra. She withdraws, coiling together her long limbs and hunkering against the dry earth of stillrift. The shadows of boulders kept her partially obscured - but so too did they hide the stranger.
In the sparse light of the mooon, not yet full but leaning towards it every evening, Indra thought she saw a ghost. It glimmered like fog coalesced on the edge of her vision.
She blinked and tried to force the lingering confusion of the dream from her mind, swallowing something down, burying pieces of herself. Unable to speak, as she cowered.