Bearclaw Valley the black cat

all welcome that would be allowed in the den

her brother is fascinating. he is a miniature of their mother, which ignites something strange within her—jealousy, perhaps? she looks up to astara so much, after all; it is only natural that she would want to look exactly like her, too.

but she is ruddy, even more so in the light outside the den. they are dark. in the night, it is almost impossible to distinguish his tiny form against her belly, especially with her still-poor eyesight. as it improves, she picks up nuance; maybe one day they will be quite different. for now, they are twins, and she the outlier.

hmmm. Avicus waddles toward @Aventus, more steady on her feet now than ever before. her normally fierce nature is subdued by curiosity, a desire to sniff and mouth along his shadowy form to figure out—what makes him him? why have they been born so different?

Mind if we set this to present day?

Avicus, on the other hand, was equally fascinating to Aventus.

He knew only that his legs matched his mother's fur and knew nothing of how the rest of him looked, but he knew that Avicus was wildly different from Astara. In the den's gloom, it was difficult to tell just how ruddy her fur was, but even in the dark she was a little flame standing in stark contrast against their dam's dark stomach. At any given time, his infant eyes were drawn to her—a phenomenon that might become very normal for her in her later life. How could wolves not stare at vibrant fur like hers?

No surprise that when she woke him from his nap, Aventus' eyes went instantly to Avicus' red figure. Not that they could've gone anywhere else; she was crowding into his space, lipping his fur and sniffing. With a disgruntled growl, the boy shrugged off her ministrations and clambered to his feet with a searching look to his sibling's blue-eyed face.

no problem!

if he is curious of her, he doesn't show it in the same way. where Avicus is physical, Aventus seems more withdrawn, cerebral—at least in this instance. she returns his glance with a piqued expression of her own, having been pushed away from exploring his shadowy frame.

she steps into the light that filters into the den from outside, unwittingly turning her fur to flame. her eyes glint an ever-darkening indigo, a dispassionate, almost reptilian stare.

she is waiting for an opening, and finds it. as soon as Aventus dares to rip his gaze away, she will hurtle toward him, aiming to take his scruff in her mouth and pin him to the cool earth floor.

A cruel trickster was Avicus! Aventus found no answers to his silent query in his sibling's face, so he averted his gaze to the leafy shadows dancing against the den's wall, and the moment he did, she struck.

It was an ancient knowledge older than time that told him to fold back his ears and flatten himself when her needling teeth found purchase in his scruff, but it was good, old-fashioned sensibility that told him not to fight against her assertion that between them, she was top dog. Aventus was no dominant beast. Not yet, anyway. Only time would tell whether this dynamic between them would change.

Aventus was ordinarily a silent pup save for the occasional grumble, but when he'd had about enough of being pressed to the dirt to remind him of her dominance, his thin lips lifted to issue a whisper of a growl.

if Aventus sees it as a trick, well. . .he cannot be helped. what tricks are to others feel all too natural to her; why wouldn't she take advantage of the moment? adrenaline courses through her as she pins down her brother, relishing in the gritty dirt between her toes and the vibration of his growl in her jaws.

once the proper amount of time has passed—once satisfied with her victory—Avicus releases the other pup and steps back, steadily-growing tail thrashing madly behind her. her own lips curl in a grin: truce?

she is not foolish, though. she knows Aventus may seek retribution, and she prepares herself for that. she welcomes it, really.

Countless contests would continue being held between the siblings as they aged and found their place in the world. Their place in Ursus was assured by their lineage, but where they stood among the bear-wolves was up to them, and it began with them establishing which of them was greater. Today, and most days, it was Avicus. Aventus simply lacked the motivation to contest that most days.

Her truce was accepted with nothing more than a look as he got up from the dirt. A brief, choppy swing of his tail was the only effort he made to dispel any lingering tension. He didn't doubt she would push for more engagement—his sister seemed hot-tempered that way, impassioned by resistance—but Aventus had learned other ways to deflect attention from himself. Right now, he wanted to get back to his nap, which he indicated by flopping to the floor with a gentle huff.

If she tried to incite him again, Avicus would find Aventus as interesting as an ordinary rock.

Last one for me!

and a rock he does become. Avicus lurches forward and pokes him a few times in the ribs with her paws, her snout, but to no avail. he has given up the fight, and she has become bored of it. she steps back from her brother and she, too, flops down into the dirt, rolling onto her back like a dead bug, legs aloft.

she falls asleep this way, dreaming of future mischief.