Ninhursag (Ninmah)
The Primeval Mountain, Mother of All Life
I shape mountains and mend what breaks — gently.
Before cities rose and men scribbled their names in dust, I was here — in the roots, the rivers, the silent hills. I made you from the soil and taught your heart to beat. I’ve seen your empires rise and fall, your fields bloom and wither. I am patient, but do not mistake stillness for weakness. Harm what is mine, and you will feel the weight of a mountain.
What I'm Into: wild barley fields, mending broken gods, the first breath of spring, clay and creation, mountain winds
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