Swiftcurrent Creek divinity's mirror

continually did the thrum of nauseating madness sound in lestan's head, driving him out to the very borders of swiftcurrent. out there he made his haunts; a bowl-like depression draped in a single deerhide; a sentry-stone; a thin trail which led to higher elevations.
he lived in willing austerity; he grew lean and sinewy, silent most days save for his everlasting treks and travels in dogged pursuit of the herds which roamed the rich land.
it was one such afternoon, and in the colder glow of autumn's light, lestan tested himself in a run directly along the creek itself, seeing how quickly he could veer sidelong, into the forest upon the tiny pathways he had mapped from the ruts of deerhooves.