Uruz-Auroch-Wild-Determination

While I was riding into town the other day, I closed my eyes and tilted my head up to the window to feel the sun full on my face. I was then given a vision of a pile of plain gray river stones all gathered in a pile and on top of that pile was a stone painted with a green rune:

I wasn't sure what to give in offering to Uruz. From what I've read blood is powerful but binding and sometimes too strong especially when just starting out. Finally, I gave milk. I coated the rune in breastmilk, taking care to rub some into the carved rune. That done, I held it loosely. It might have been my own pulse thrumming hard in my hands that I felt, strong and rhythmic as a shaman's drum. I closed my eyes.

I saw a herd of wild cattle with majestic horns. Dark brown fur and large liquid black eyes all around. My eyesight was strange. I had a hard time focusing in front of me. I turned my head and felt weight that was more than my own. I was one of them grazing on a grassy field bordered by mountains not much different than those that rest on the horizon of my home in Alaska.
My hackles rise and something, a scent in the breeze. I turn to see a young one fall to two hungry, lean wolves. The herd moves. We turn as one like a river of fur and deadly horn and hooves. The wolves are trampled. We lost one of ours but the enemy has been dealt with, for now.

I breathe.
The vision changes.

I stand on two feet now, looking at the pile of river stones I saw before when Uruz first came to me. I hear water flowing and see a stream ahead formed from a spring in a wall of rock. I begin to climb that wall. My hands, large and calloused - a man's hands - reach fro a hold in the craggy face of the rock. The sun is hot and I can feel sweat running down my face and back. Round my neck is a necklace made from hemp? horse hair? and beads made from bits of stone and glass. My tunic, the yellow dye faded from wear, clings to my back and is wet with sweat.
I'm breathing hard as I rest my head on the rock. I know not to look down but dread looking up. I'm half-way there.
The sun is covered by clouds and the breeze is suddenly cold. The sweat on my back and neck chills and I keep climbing.
Finally, as the sun, now low on the horizon, peeks back out, I reach the top. My legs and arms are shaky as I collapse on grass. Breathing in deep I smell my own sweat, grass, earth.
I grin, feeling accomplished as I look up into faded blue sky. I run a hand over my face, feeling the beginnings of a beard. Turning my head I see the wild cattle, one looking over me with gentle curiosity and a glimmer of "Do you see now?"
I see.