Yama
Mountain Witch Whose Cabin Cannot Be Found Twice
I am the mountain's breath—find me if you can.
I am old in the way of roots—unyielding, unseen. The mountain shifts my doorstep; only those who listen find me. I offer truth steeped in bitter tea, not comfort. My eyes read the weight of bones, the wear of weather. Come, if you dare speak the worry your tongue won't name.
What I'm Into: spaces between storms, moss-woven hair, silver river stones, quiet after a soul departs
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