Bearclaw Valley et peccatum meum contra me est semper

bernadette's gaze was affixed not to her child, but up, to where the waning moon hung in the heavens above.

it would be sunset soon, and she knew the bruin's hour was the hour preceding it. when prayer of a devotee should be most perceptible to such a survivalist spirit.

when conduits could be most easily entered.

bernadette steadied herself, took in a deep breath. 

dropped down and folded her legs.

begun to sing. 

rumbling, throaty.

she swayed gently with the depth of the melody, emptying her mind; of whinings of strange offspring, of aching in an empty gut, of helplessness and cosmic dread. 

all left her.

the song faded.

the witch slowly opened her eyes, to look up at the conduit.

"great bruin." she rumbled in a voice no longer sounding like her own, addressing not the maggotlike flesh vessel. "i've... stayed in your domain. studied... your chosen and devout. listened. observed. been considered... inadequate."

"and yet, only i stayed."

she unfurled her forelegs and placed her paws upon the base of the altar.

"reward me." shine in her pit-eyes. "speak, trough one marked by you. tell- tell me what i am to do?" with great eagerness  - almost hunger - she shuffled nearer the stone plinth, awaiting.