Bearclaw Valley her perfume crucified me with memories

as he had smugly assumed, indra concurred with his want. merrick was not an unfair god, however; he bestowed a nip of gratitude to the back of his mother's elbow, before prancing in all his milkfat glory beyond her and into the pool of golden light.
but gobsmacked he drew up and bumped back against indra. a monster had appeared, a blackened deviltail thing, with eyes that burned cold moonlight above wicked red slashes. merrick stared, aghast, fascinated; it was not until the devil turned away that the boy found his breathless voice. "MAHM! WHOM DAT IS?" he piped with the shaken, broken-volume-knob wonder of a child who has seen something about which they will dream that night.