Silvertip Mountain loss of breath

stranger. intruder. a blood clot silhouette in the distance, piquing the interest of the void-touched creature lurking above. asperas kept to the dark corners that blended so well with her nightspun pelt as she descended, eyes ablaze and nostrils flared. so few strangers called upon the bear cult... none of their own accord since the birth of the unchild, as far as she knew. perhaps this one desired to meet the bear-god — either in the flesh, or in the void.
asperas slunk from the shadows with a crooning growl somewhere between warning and half-hearted greeting, lingering on her own side of the border with a possessive rigidity to her posture. she did not call for her parents, nor for the guardians of the pack. she did not greet the ruddy stranger with words. the cultspawn only watched.