That she had promises to stay true to,

@Olive

And she ran, away from what she knew and wherever the beast laid be. She followed through where the flock would be, coated the sky in a dark cloud where they continued onward, and but barely, did Miriam catch sight of them. Though as the sun was setting, the last did she see was the ravens falling through the forest itself, and the white one remaining behind.. She couldn't tell though — whether that meant to follow or that the white devil continued to be behind her, chasing as her leg stained with claws and carpeted the ground with crimson, tears throughout her body from a fight that she fled from..

"Please," she coo'd in a cry, faint in a whisper, "come back," to the one who left, as it drifted to the skies in a blurr that Miriam could no longer see.. All the burning her body gave came through, and she fall, into the snowy earth itself ; breathing heavily in exhaustion and pain.

She did not know why she was chasing them, and yet, felt it was but a calling itself. She wondered.. If the Goddess was still trying to tell her something, even now, after encountering a monster.

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It was the fluttering flock of crows which first grasped her attention, which was rapt — her green eyes thrust upward, she watched as the black forms scattered across the heavens, the sight of which was obscured by the dying light. Her mind attempted to join them, to fly away with them and drift aimlessly above the heights, but she was called then by the sound of another, either being pursued or the pursuer itself, running through the wintered landscape with a heavy-handed brushstroke. The melodically pleading voice struck the spellsinger next, carving a lantern out of her heart, the glow from which moved the woman to eventual action.

The druid rushed forward and glimpsed the lilac figure in the snow, and how the breath was taken from her! It felt as if she was witness to a ghost from another life, and the ethereal vision of @Eleuthera was elicited, though Olive could no more identify this one soul-bond from the next.  As any mother would for their child, the preistess rushed forward, dancing upon light toe-tips, anxiously treading closer to the fallen figure and greeting her breathlessly. "Moonchild, you're hurt..." her voice quavered, wishing to taken her head in her lap and reassure her, but the Madonna knew better than to assume such things in this strange, parallel world. Instead, she stood still, lowering her head to the earth so that they might see eye-to-eye.

"What plagues you?" she asked, brimming with concern, her nares swirling with the scent of blood.

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It all felt for naught, as her head brushed into the snow unmoving and in thought. Her life slowly turning to head, to regrets and pleasures ; all but a selfish attire in thought as the end came to her mind, for what all has she done, what good as it been brought to the world the Goddess brought her to? Life given and taken for nothing, for in the end she followed her heart, and scorned each way she tried. To flashing to her homeland of warmth and spring, to the nightmares of the winter forest, and the blessings of two gray children — one lost in the abyss of the afterlife, and the other but a dainty, and amnesiac one.. Though independent, for as days go on she inherited her mothers blessing of adventure, and strove farther ; but in the end she still could not remember.. The memory of Miriam abandoning her. A fatal flaw within the maidens porcelain life, for all the torture that may be, it was the one regret she truly held in life itself.

Perhaps the white bird was the sign she left behind — for Miriam remembered the days of depression where darkness endeveloped her, and by pure chance, a vision came to be ; a white elk, trotting alongside the lights of her life, her dearest litter. What brought her back from hell itself and a new nature, and yet, her heart told her she must protect them and had failed! Failed the Goddess as her son Asmoses vanished! Alas all that searching was for naught, and as days go on she only brought heartache.. To herself and others.

A final decision to leave ; only for her daughter to follow.

What does the Goddess have to say to all of this? A light to be? A white raven that she chased with a beast on her heels—
 

---

 
She looked up, a maiden in holy form and a widened look of a surprise; for the white raven was no more but within the place he left to, arrived but a wolf in it's form, "Did the Goddess, send you?" she could not help but mutter, as Miriam weakly looked up to the other in but a hope.. All that was given to her, the signs and horrors, possibly led to this very moment. Yet her mind remained in a daze, like none seemed real and all was a dream.

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The woman upon the ground seemed so feeble, and looked up at her with such big, blinking, doe-like eyes, that she could no more keep herself from her side than she could keep flies from honey. The sylph lowered herself, settling her carriage on the earth, and testing a step or two towards the fallen. Esra wasn't sure if she was dying, and oftentimes dying things reacted harshly; and she was speaking of the goddess, of whom most wolves only mentioned when their soul was ready to take —

"Yes," she urged in a single, hushed breath. With a quick flick of her adept gaze, she ascertained the wounding to her flank, but nothing life-threatening. With a test of her nose, she could sense no disease. This was far more than physical. What torment had the spellsinger happened upon? "The Goddess has many faces," she continued, edging another crawling pace forward.

"—and the one that looks upon you now, it is one of mercy." and with that she paused, waiting to see what the ghost of a shewolf would do, and wanting to test her no further. Instead, her eyes like swimming like pools of moonlight, spoke a thousand words that her voice never could.

"There is something that you've lost?" the ash-and-cream vision posited, her heart aching to embody the goddess that this woman desired her to be. Silently, she requested support from the matrix of the universe, calling upon whatever omnipresent forces the grey ghost had curried favor with all her life. Her voice, Esra intuitively knew, was one of a believer; one who had been hurt, but continued to believe.

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Relief came to herself — for the answer had arrived, and someone had given the desire. Met many who spoke of Gods and so, or looked at her upon a confusion and she could only awkwardly continue on, faith held close as the world around did not share the same. Cursed it seems, as she left the sanctuary of home where it was blessed by the holiest of beings — and the Priestess, who warned her of the dangers but alas.. Miriam couldn't help but desire what was around, the curiosity of her heart and yet plagued her with turmoil's after turmoil's, and where solely.. She felt herself disappearing from gave, the magic slipping between her paws as she looked into the sky, and there was nothing but faith.. And no answer from above.

Pray tell, through the year would she continue as life went onwards as a wayfarer, and she bounded by lands with chains shackled of responsibility that was given, yet her soul desired freedom. Was that so selfish of her — to where even the Goddess stopped speaking? Sending signs, and waves where she could no longer even read the world, but always had troubles.. But she was faithful, to the very end. 

What has she lost?

"The magic, I cannot read the world.. Nor' the plague of darkness that continues inflicting on me." Crashing down into sobs — how tired she was, day after day with a heart of wonder and yet — only following depth of despair continued. When she looked up the other glowed like the Priestess did ; holy and wonder. A gaze of warmth and wisdom that felt like not of this world, and how she desired to hold close, listen to her whispers and lessons and yet.. Hesitated, for the signs she always seemed to read were always wrong.

But Miriam prayed, this one was not.

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Her grey, clouded counterpart seemed almost lost in thought, but for a moment, carefully turning over her question in her mind. The answer she deemed a sufficient summary, unfortunately, was not one that boded greatly well for the prostrate one. It was, however, a very valid concern that warranted such an extreme reaction. If it weren't for the Gods, and one's ability to interact with their inner god-sense, what was the point of this earthy existence? If it were the truth, it would be cause for such an existential crisis.

Auspiciously, thankfully, simply luckily, Esra knew this was not so. But this eternal cry for help (one which all souls knew intimately, in one form or another) was the most sincere and heart-felt of prayers. The desire to be loved by the Gods, or the Goddess, was the origin point of such deep spiritual awakenings that Olive almost was excited for the girl, who lay quivering and wounded in the snow. What an opportunity, the grey woman had handed to her!

The shrouded, ash-and-cream sylph crept closer, reaching her nose out to gently brush against the velveteen, lilac fur of her temple; the crosspoint of so many sensory organs. "Are you a wolf who cannot see?" she questioned softly, her voice kind, but not without gravity. "A woman who cannot hear?" Esra huffed a gentle breath against the woman's cheek, spinning and conjuring one of her favorite verses out of her memory, perhaps handed down to her from the Goddess herself. "The power of the goddess is with you at all times; through the activities of mind, senses, breathing, and emotions; and is constantly doing all the work using you as a mere instrument."(source) she breathed, almost longingly, but reigned back her head and pulled her winterthick ears back against her crown.

"She is especially present during one's dark night of the soul," Esra explained cautiously, openly. "but this is her most fearsome of forms."

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She was unaware of the changes of the other — all she was was like of a blurr of life, a woman presented from the moonlight itself ! A presentation from the Goddess, someone who came down in the moments of need, and within the harm of nature itself. She wondered why did the beast present itself to her.. Was the darkness, trying to lure her once more to it's abyss? Blood dripped, and her eyes watered as the other spoke. A delicate voice,  one that touched a warmth that reminded her so much of the Priestess of home. 

"I cannot hear, I cannot see," she echoed in words, voice rapid in panting of a desperation. She never could see and yet that was never a worry, within her heart she knew.. The Goddess was always near, but — the recent of days seemed to fill with a dawning silence that disrupted a peace within and as much as she called and screamed.. Nothing was seen, she couldn't see the magic that was within the world itself, any signs that the Goddess was around.. She felt, alone.

Miriam listened and yet, couldn't understand. A plea within her eyes as she looked at the other, for the Goddess.. Was there within her darkest times? A form she did not know? An urging, a confusion, for where was she in the times of need?

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Esra could see in the eyes of the other that such words were lost; not for any fault of the wounded one, and she would never blame her for it. When one befell a circumstance of trauma or disregulation, the thinking part of their brain defaulted to the more animalistic, fight-or-flight part, rendering their ability to cognitively digest complex topics to be relatively nil. It hadn't been truly fair of the shrouded prophet to offer such a wordy explanation, when words were not what the supplicant needed.

"Breathe, you innocent being of light..." she urged with a rustling undertone, and with every ounce of truth that came naturally through such a statement. There was a different, better way to go about this — and the shamanwoman was eager to calm the woman and soothe her spirit, so that she might lay healing hands upon her bleeding wound. However, first things came first. "Focus on smoothing your breath," she continued, demonstrating without question, filling her lungs with air and releasing it through her nostril in a steady easy pace. She did not expect the other to do this without a hitch, but a shaky, intentional breath was better than nothing.

Esra's eyelids, as pale as milk, slid closed. "Close your eyes, and just listen." She let a heart beart or two pass, before she took another inhale, held it within the container of her lungs, and again exhaled. "I smell..." she began dreamily, letting the different sensory information register in the tingling of her nose. "I smell... lichens and moss. and a faraway hint of sweetwater." Without opening her eyes, and her nose lifted but only slightly, she asked of Miriam "What do you smell?"

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Miriam was someone who always needed guidance, a light — she didn't know what else there was to do within life, if not for someone guiding. Yet it wasn't on purpose, she simply felt like a doll without a purpose ; and with no one to pursue further, she was lifeless. To the group she called her own and even to her daughter, unknowingly, so distance and yet together, and she too, pray fell to no more purpose again. She could not help but always listen, and follow what the prophet speaks.

A closing of eyes and a listening, her instincts foretelling what could be, "the pines of blood," however, as she still sees within the darkness, the predatoring white beast.. Her legs, injured and the smell of tangy metal, whistling in the air.

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Without intending to, Esra opened her eyes as the woman drew in what she could of the world, and watched as she allowed information to register with her senses. It was a near by, familiar answer (as hurt things tended to be only aware of their immediate surroundings and propensity for further danger), but it was an answer all the same. The smile that spread across her fine maw was entirety unbidden.

"That makes sense," she cooed in agreement, admiring the courage it took to get outside of one's internal woes, to focus on the external. "You're injured," she commented, affirming a not-so-happy reality. However... "But you will be okay. I'm a healer," Esra explained, even though it was not she who did the healing, but the gods working through her hands. "We have plants to heal you, time to bind your wounds , and a wolf who happened across your path with the necessary knowledge — all gifts from the goddess." Hopefully, this was some comfort to the quivering, lilac thing.

The seraphine waif crawled forward, only inches away from the woman — but she wouldn't offer touch, not yet. "She wants you to live. She wants you to understand," Esra spoke, her eyes of crawling ivy emanating a kind glow, but still was alive and on fire. "but to understand the light, we often must first become horribly familiar with the dark." A deeper understanding of the Gods didn't always come from tragedy and sorrow, but belief came fast to those who found themselves on this route. It was this moment that Esra reached out her black pinpoint nose, touching the side of the woman's neck.

"Just breathe, and be. I've got you..."

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A relief was slowly washing over, a comfort — like a motherly touch she wished she had. There were moments in time how Miriam thought of her own Amma, the careful protection she brought, and in return attempted to give to her own daughter. Forgetting the past that brought pain and despair, a missing father that she hoped to not see ; for only memories of a dark time would plague her thoughts. Yet within a shadow was there a light, and to the land of unknown did she come, feeling finally free.

But it almost seemed to always chase her. But within paws did she land, a fortune that seemed to finally come after all this time. Blips of white in shining armor, almost as those coated by the snow itself always seem in one way or another, come to her aid. Flashing of thoughts of brothers and another, so dearly she held like a priestess. Words of reassurance, of spirituality as if the Goddess herself was speaking, and granting her holy words within this mortal coil of a form.

She leaned for a touch, to know that it was real, for in the end, Miriam was still lost, "I don't understand," she said admittedly, flakes of water coming from her eye, "why am I being shown such darkness? when will I be free?"

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If there was anything this lilac shewolf did not need at this moment, it was preachiness. Not with such a soft and trusting nature, and a sweetness that Esra could taste upon her as easily as one could taste hate on one who was evil. Like a child, she was hurt, and she cried for it — but was there not this inner child within all of them, who cried out and yearned to be love, unable to deal with the harsh realities of the world?

The other seemed to calm, though her confusion was the forefront of her mind. Without pomp, the prophet sought to explain as matter-of-factly as possible, hoping to ground the woman in the truth of it. "Right now you are a victim," she explained, her voice steady, hopefully gaining the full attention of the girl who so distracted by memories, visions, and paid. "But when you overcome and grow, you will be truly limitless." If she had room for details, she might have added that healing was never a linear experience and there would be many ups, down and times of questioning — but this was something for Miriam to learn through experience, not to be told by another.

In the same self-assured and confident tone, the woman affirmed "You know exactly what to do. You already have everything you'll need." not to force the injured party to think on this now (it would be essentially impossible), but just to hopefully abate some worry that she now lacked something she once had. "You've simply forgotten it, amongst the vicissitudes of life." Esra pressed her nose into the woman's cheek, snuffling demurely at the wetness below her eyes.

"All you'll need to do is remember. Remember what it feels like to be you."

The woman pulled back minutely, putting an iota of space between them. "But, this is for another time. Now is for feeling the darkness fully, and let it flow through you, like a river." At this, Esra punctuated her assertion by rising up, and pacing around to the woman's flank. "Ask no more question, there will be time to understand later." She canted her head.

"What's your name? Where do you live? Tell me about yourself, while I attend to your wounds."

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