Bearclaw Valley archespore

along a short length of bearclaw's inner eastern wall, stigmata paced anxiously back and forth; a scowl burned across his features like treadmarks. above him, half tucked into a broad scar on the cliffside, was the nest of a particularly large golden eagle he wished to dispatch. but at over sixty feet in the air -- and dealing with a bird of prey that rested through seventy percent or more of the day -- the wolf was out of luck. unless he could catch it in one of those rare moments it was on or low to the ground, which would take equal parts dedication and luck, this was a fellow predator he'd simply have to live with.

and as he didn't feel very much inclined to spend another sunny day stalking a gliding dot in the sky to its impenetrable perch, stigmata was quick to accept this bird's near-irrevocable residency as fact. he could only hope that the pups he'd yet to personally encounter were too big and/or too much of a hassle for the aquila to target.

@Lucas

Lucas was working on his moonwalk when he found himself approaching Bearclaw Valley's high walls. The grass was the perfect amount of wetness from a late night rain storm for his paw pads to slide right over it and he was making good progress on his form and technique. There was still a lot of awkward hitching as he figured out which paws to move and when, but he was able to make his way across the field, at least until the shadow of the wall fell across him and prompted him to turn around.

The salt and pepper wolf pacing there caught his eye immediately, but extroverted as ever, Lucas hardly missed a beat before he trotted in Stigmata's direction. Any wolf in the valley was surely a friend of his aunt's or his mama's, so he approached without fear or hesitation, drawing up to an appropriate distance before asking, with a wide grin stretching his bulbous cheeks, "whatcha doin'?" For now, the nest overhead went unnoticed; life happened on the ground for burly little Lucas and he rarely had cause to look up.

stigmata came to a heel, swinging the spear-tip that was his muzzle towards the buoyant approach of a rather husky little boy. the wolf stopped what he was doing and eased out of his anxious ruminations with a squeaky yawn. he regarded the valley prince now, his expression sunken and rather bare, but his slender tail wagged gently; not that the youngster needed any invitation. stigmata pried through his early tells, wondering what such prominent, thickset features might look like when he was older.

"trying to kill a big bird," he answered without reservation, then added: "but it is impossible for now." he motioned towards the jut of long, jagged branches overlapping the sheer cliffside, and he reclined on his tailbone to watch in mute interest what he presumed to be a spawn of redleaf. would this boy be a great powerhouse, forward and charging like a bull, or would he just be  a big wall -- a giant handsome ham? judging by that midsection, it would probably be the latter, but stigmata was surprisingly the kind to hold  out hope even if he wouldn't gamble on it.

Trying to kill a big bird was as much the opening to a story as any opening, and Lucas' gaze immediately brightened. A game! His eyes lingered on the towering reedy wolf, drawing easy comparisons between Stigmata and his stick-thin brother, until the man gestured to the clutch of branches on the cliffs above. Lucas considered them with a comically furrowed brow; this was serious business, after all.

"Nothin's impossible!" he declared in a triumphant tone with the faintest hint of a mirthful smirk. He swung himself around to face the nest on high, gut jiggling as he thought. "You just gotta... um." Hm. His mouth drew a thin line across his plump muzzle as he slowly cast his gaze back over the browned ears of his companion. "Uh, got a real big rock? Maybe we can throw it and hit it and it'll fall down?"

It was a totally realistic plan as far as he was concerned.

"you valley wolves and your rocks," stigmata sniffed, trying not to recall his meeting of mona with any fondness. "i fear no wolf can throw a rock well enough to hit a bird," he said, coldly at first, but then in remembering his own sons he added in a lighter growl: "but i have been proven wrong before."

he afforded the high nest one last glace before motioning for the jiggling lad to join him. "come, let me show you a better way to catch birds."