Porcupine Ridge my darkness is shining

has no name; for a girl with no name save what others gave her, pakasqa found this sad. 

she leapt down from the stone after the graceful tread of muskrat, head low as she nosed the trail as they went. an owl overhead caused her to pause for a moment — as she drank in the scents of the darkening forest, she was struck by the age here. it clung to the moss, and the trees, and the loam — secret, ancient things just waiting to be unhoused. 

pakasqa picked up the pace, closing the distance temporarily made by her dawdling.