Blackfoot Forest i. please be gentle,

the cloudberry flitted through the trees, steps light in spite of the hitch in her gait. the cries of fox fell upon the flicker of her tawny ears as brother sun reached for the horizon, casting the tangled silhouettes of the dark forest into shadow. the temperature dipped with the encroaching nightfall and fading sun. the doe jerked instinctively, just beginning to turn her head as if to tug closer a shawl of fur that no longer hung there. 

this was the event that startled her from her reverie of the forest and gave her pause. freezing, she felt a familiar panic overtake her. aiwë squinted, as if psychically straining to conjure whatever spark had ignited within her mind. 

a sigh whispered through her frame. 

pressing on, the four-year weaved slowly through the ever darkening forest. a small clearing, along a footpath that had overgrown with roots and undergrowth, revealed itself. there was a hollowed dug-out within the earth, beneath the splintered remains of a fallen tree that had rotten through with time. 

dusky nose lowered and a paw shifted inquisitively, as if it might've once lifted from the ground when the herd-stalker had the full control of all limbs. delicate breaths whuffed from deep in her chest but the odors were stale, decidedly not canid. with a careful and stiff dip, the nuiruk slipped beneath and into the abandoned ulaq.

broken artifacts remained to tell a story. 

bone chips. dirty stones that might've been arranged in some way, a time before aiwë. the rotted scraps of furs and hides. 

the wren cast a slow, emerald gaze about, features softening to something akin to grief as her eyes burned. 

quite suddenly, the woman half-doubled over, sucking in a sharp breath as pain exploded in a lightning burst through her skull. 

a man cloaked in white, the two silent as death as they scraped away the ruins. 

splatters of carefully crafted tinctures and dyes slashed against the walls. 

heat of humiliation heavy as it bloomed in her cheeks. 

a cold gaze of mahogany. 

with a shudder, the botanist sucked in a deep breath and lowered -- hunkering as her ears pressed flat to her skull. shaking her head violently, a wild creature consuming her bloodstream, she backed out of the crypt and wheeled away as fast as her scarred form could take her. 

she fled until the spirits could no longer reach her.

panting, her eyes darted wildly as if searching for the answers of unspoken turmoil within the trees.

instead, pale jade landed upon the blooming growth of a simple cluster of daffodils. 

the blossoms had just begun to open but sagged beneath the weight of recent rains and unreliable temperatures. 

aiwë stared at them for longer than she knew. then, suddenly, she set off into the woods in search of moss -- all thoughts of the night and resting utterly forgotten in her newfound mission.