Stone Circle Beholden to the dust that adheres

SAME

What met her was a pale mirror of herself. The girl was unsettled, and it showed in the lift of her hackles and tail, in the slow silent curl of her lips as she started to back away with her back arching in her best approximation of an angry cat. Fear was written into every aspect of the reaction, an intense flare of it that ended almost as quickly as it had begun. She was disturbed by the resemblance they shared, but recognized the girl as no threat.
Abruptly ashamed, the ruddy girl slid into a prone position, elbows hitting the ground hard. It frightens me, She began to explain in hushed tremulous tones. To see myself in your face. The girl breathed slowly, voice drifting, muttering, I might become you if I stood forever in the snow. You might become me if you bathed in blood.