Bearclaw Valley they are the force between

if u have the time <3

astara had seen a change come over her children since ikkalrok had been slain, and two new whelps had been added to the fold.

astara tended to them, but they were not her own and she often did not let them forget it. @Avicus and @Aventus were always the first to receive her attention or food.

even then a coldness spread between the trio. astara had come to love her biological children fiercely, and the wedge that jammed its way unpleasantly between them had her heart stinging and head heavy. trailing after the duo's scent in the pinewood, astara searched for them, missing the days when they had loved her and she had been their world entire.

When he couldn't seize an advantage over the new pups to cause them pain or terror, Aventus avoided them entirely. The collateral damage was that he spent precious little time in the company of his dam, too. Whether or not this bothered Aventus, he maintained the new status quo. This meant spending a lot of his time on his own or in the company of whichever pack wolf was stuck putting up with his oft-silent, occasionally eerie company.

He'd wound aimlessly through the trees, only to grow bored and double back on his own trail. He was of half a mind to find his sister, wrangle her into another hunt for the weaklings, but instead he ran into his black double as she trailed them. Silver eyes met indigo in a brief flash, then he turned his head deferentially and looked away. Not before surreptitiously glancing by her flanks for signs of leeches.

Aventus had no words for Astara. He never had. He loosed a huff full of displeasure and disappointment in place of words she might not understand and certainly couldn't return. He didn't burn with envy the way Avicus did, but he was nevertheless unhappy with the change, cradling close the hot animosity he felt for the invaders. He wanted them gone.

her little rook needed no words to communicate his displeasure. astara froze as she caught sight of aventus and he of her; when had he gotten so cold?

and she, so soft?

the blackbird's tail, which had first been raised in excitement, flagged uncertainly. never had astara wished she possessed the ability to speak, until that moment -- where words might salve or soothe the burning she could see emblazoned in her son's chest.

but words were useless. teeth were not.

astara stepped closer warily. measuring. studying. frustration rippled out of her sun like a malignant blight, chittering -- it needed an outlet. it needed something

crunching, killing, crushing, destroying

but not merrick's children. not those tavern slut babes, whose only blessing on this earth was that astara erroneously believed they were fathered by her rook.

she moved off at a pantherine slink, turning back once -- her eyes communicating hostile excitement and the invitation of the hunt.

Why had she brought them into their lives? Things had been perfect with the three of them. Merrick, too, though he existed in a different category in Aventus’ mind. More of a god, less of a parent. There was no room in their family for two snivelling weaklings except as prey for two growing pups.

Aventus meant to hone his skills on them and taste their flesh.

Astara’s body language conveyed to Aventus that she knew she was wrong. She knew she’d done a wrong thing by bringing those whelps home. There was still time for her to correct that. Aventus could wait for proof that she still loved them, and hadn’t replaced them, and there was a real reason for this upheaval.

Her fathomless eyes communicated hostility, which seeped into his veins, infectious. Aventus loped immediately after her, curious and drawn as ever to his dam. Maybe she was taking him to kill one of the worms. He lapped saliva from his lips and let his tail wag slowly, anticipating.

whenever astara was angry, she hunted.

she figured her son, raw with boiling rage, might find comfort in such a ritual.

he followed, but even then astara could sense tendrils of anger -- plenty of it directed at her -- follow him like a furious storm.

but if she gave him a way to channel that frustration... astara swung down the redpath, taking aventus away from the rendezvous and into the forest which smelled of rich pine and loamy earth.

here along the myriad scents astara sensed wolverine -- but would aventus?

They weren’t going for the babes, then. Aventus made note of the direction Astara led him. It wasn’t to the rendezvous or the hole in the ground where she’d hidden them. What excitement crept through him withered. He wanted her to take him to the weaklings, present them to him, watch and watch with pride as her son tore them to pieces. Instead, she led him away.

He was of a mind to leave her, return to the rendezvous where he might hunt them from the shadows, but the smell of something else twisting through the air caught his attention. It was a rank musk that wound through the foliage and air alike. Aventus tipped his muzzle into the air and sniffed, parting his lips to better draw it in. He could almost taste it.

He wanted to direct his gaze to her in a question, but he was mad at her. Instead, he sought to brush past her, seeking the trail of the aptly named skunk bear.

a change had come to her son, who now walked behind her as if he was being lead to his grave. astara paused to inspect him, wondering why his steps had become leaden -- but it was then he huffily stole past her, his eyes hard and strident.

ah, so it would be like that -- astara watched him in amusement, but booked no protest. she nimbly stepped in line behind her son, drawing her nose along the ground where the wolverine's scent became thicker. it would be good practice for him to find the beast himself -- and better practice yet for him to pit his fury against it so he might forget the wretchedness of his emotions, and his resentment towards his dam.

The shadow prince followed the wolverine’s musk deeper into the woods, attuning his brain to hunting it rather than fuming at his mother. He wasn’t familiar with the scent of this animal, but following its trail was easy thanks to its powerful odour. Otherwise, his inexperience would’ve hindered him.

The scent was thickest at the base of a tree, but there was no wolverine that Aventus could see. Puzzled, the boy sniffed the trunk and was just about to wind his way around it when something heavy and brown fell on him from above. Caught off guard, the pup folded under the ambushing wolverine’s weight and could do nothing but yelp for his mother when it drove its throttling teeth into the back of his neck.

they traveled, aventus' back to astara. coldness radiated from him -- cold as night or an endless shadow.

around a tree the scent wound. astara was inspecting the delicate pinestraw when a shade fell from above with a sickening whump -- she too was taken by surprise. a shriek of motherly umbrage tore from her throat, ending in a growl as astara lunged towards the creature.

it buffeted and attacked her son with alarming ferocity. perhaps she had underestimated the wolverine's tenacity, and overestimated the safety of her son -- no matter, this was life -- and it was rarely kind. she drove for the wolverine's hind leg, aiming to pluck the savage beast from her son and drag it backwards by its hock.

All Aventus could do as the wolverine pummelled the back of his neck with ferocious intent was flatten himself as much as possible. He probably outweighed the thing, given how much growing he’d been doing recently, but its sneak attack gave it the advantage. It landed several painful bites to his nape and shoulders before Astara managed to haul it off him.

He didn’t know if he was bleeding or not. The sight of his own blood might have been enough to petrify him, but Aventus lurched to his feet instead, whirling around to join the fight with a boyish roar. Astara had the beast by its backside. Aventus, having experienced the front end of that thing, was too clever to approach its head directly.

He swung to the vulnerable side when it curled on itself to try to harm his mother, sinking sharp little teeth into its exposed flank.

fucking bastard -- not my son. astara dragged the beast kicking and clawing, unflinching as rake-like claws scythed down her muzzle. aventus was staggering to his feet by the time the wolverine managed several painful bites along astara's gum line and sensitive nose.

twice now she had nearly let go of it -- it was ferocious and surprisingly strong. blood rose in neat little drops along her gums where the wolverine slashed and clawed, and aventus was but a black blur to the beast's side.

astara realized her son's intentions, and with silent efficiency swung her head towards the wolverine's shoulder -- attempting to pin the beast down as her son attacked open flank.

kill it, eviscerate it, her mind egged her son on -- a raw and primal bloodlust stirring to life.

Aventus had learned a valuable lesson today: wolverines were no joke one-on-one, but a wolf’s power came not from its singular brawn, but the aid of its pack. A wolverine might be more than capable of taking down a single wolf, but two? Even though he was a four month old menace at best, not yet an oiled cog in wolfkind’s machine, with Astara by his side, the wolverine didn’t stand much of a chance.

Its sharp claws spilled Astara’s blood, a smell that punched Aventus in the nose and coaxed forth something akin to bloodthirst. Not for his dam’s blood, but the beast’s. How dare it harm his mother! She was made to kill, though, and managed to seize the wolverine in a hold that would prevent it swinging back to him.

His small teeth flashed as he drove them into the wolverine’s side. His jaws ached with the force he injected into that bite. The wolverine snarled in chattering bursts, struggling to free itself from Astara. Aventus withdrew, satisfied with the blood splashed over his muzzle, and dove in for another rending bite.

Upon seizing flesh this time, he gave his head a savage shake and came away with a chunk of fur and flesh, but earned a harsh kick to his muzzle from a flailing hind limb. Those claws weren’t as effective as the front, but it was enough to scratch his sensitive flesh. Recoiling, Aventus lashed his tongue out to taste the blood that welled on the side of his muzzle.

even with the two of them, the wolverine was no easy target. astara swayed with every buck and wrench the wolverine gave, wincing as he twisted in on himself and delivered a ruthless series of chattering rebukes along her snout. it stung and it hurt, and it made astara dig deeper into the kill or die instinct which now thudded heavily through her brain and blood.

her son was rebuked too, by the force of a wild kick. astara took that opportunity to shake as hard as she could, feeling claws scrabble down her chin and teeth punctuate her nose and gums. she dragged the thing along the dirt, upending pine and soft loam in the process -- meanwhile a smear of blood followed -- whether it was her own or the tenacious wolverine's she did not know.

by now the creature was desperate as it struggled, but for drawing her son's blood astara was intent on seeing it suffer.

The scent of blood was cloying in Aventus’ nose. Astara’s, the wolverine’s, and his pooled together in his senses, driving him wild. It even drowned out the beast’s natural stench. It kicked and hissed and shrieked as Astara dragged it across the ground. Aventus, seeing the opportunity, rushed its backside.

His small jaws snapped and scythed, catching the wolverine and releasing in quick succession, puncturing bleeding holes into its hind. If not for Astara and her fortitude, he might’ve died trying to fight a fierce skunk bear like this one. He would forever admire his mother’s tenacity in spite of taking shot after shot to the face from their quarry.

He sank his teeth into an exposed hind leg, careful to avoid the kicking this time, and wrenched his body back with all his might. A grown wolf might’ve been able to tear its limb clean from its body this way. He succeeded only in popping the joint from its socket, but he was nevertheless rewarded with a snarling scream of protest and the realization that the wolverine was beginning to grow sluggish from pain. Hopefully it would stop tearing into his poor mother's face so fiercely.

pop goes the weasel -- or in this case, wolverine.

astara pulled her head away abruptly, being able to withstand the blows to her face no longer. a rout of crimson littered her muzzle, clean rake marks razing her dark jaws and cheek.

the wolverine's hour drew near -- he hissed and hobbled and now began to worm away, impeded by his dislocated limb. astara trotted round him, hungry gaze looking for an opening -- and this time she seized the thing by its neck and flung it down roughly, hoping to stun it enough that her son might close in for the kill.

Astara’s blood dripped onto the earth. Aventus watched it fall in the split second when his mother readjusted her grip, just before she hoisted it up enough to slam it down. It was a move designed to scramble the brains of larger animals, and to utterly obliterate smaller ones. He watched and learned from the efficacy of her tactics.

She would watch Nyra perform the same on him in two weeks’ time.

The wolverine’s brain must’ve rattled in its skull, for it blinked dopily and appeared unable to move. Aventus fell upon it, bunching his hindquarters as he gathered the vulnerable wolverine in his slender arms and dug his jaws into the back of its neck. Several mauling bites and a vicious shake of his head later, it gave up its last shuddering gasp and slumped to the ground.

Aventus relinquished his grasp and stepped back, licking his nose, before he extended his small neck to sniff at his mother’s battered, bleeding muzzle.

astara observed her son and the way instinct tentatively seemed to overtake him. no sooner had she released the wolverine, did her son fall upon it -- an artful pounce followed by the mauling strike of hefty bites and a vicious wrench of his head.

the wolverine was undoubtedly dead. astara lifted her regent muzzle proudly, licking blood (some her own) from her chops as aventus nosed her. well done, her approving gaze seemed to communicate -- they had vanquished their first true predator together, and astara hoped there would be many more to come.

He flicked his tongue out to tentatively taste a drop of blood from her chin, unsure whether it belonged to Astara or the wolverine. Blood was blood, he’d learned, and it tasted just as sweet no matter the source. But, naturally, he wasn’t interested in tasting his mother’s, so he pulled away and tried not to feel too giddy about the proud light dancing in her indigo eyes.

The scuffle had taken a toll on Aventus, as well. A variety of scrapes and bite wounds littered his nape and flank, but nothing serious enough to require aid. All of them would heal well in time. Mostly, he felt exhaustion settling over him like a warm blanket, coaxing him back to the rendezvous where he might sleep off the worst of the encounter.

Thinking of the rendezvous reminded him of the brats, sending a chill through him that snuffed out any appetite he might’ve had for the fresh meat. He could not forget about them. For now, he could set aside his feelings and give his mother a rough nudge beneath her chin to communicate his thanks for the worthy distraction, but it couldn't erase every negative feeling he had about the situation. When he made to pad back to the rendezvous, he silently hoped she would not follow him and draw those weak excuses for wolves to him with her presence—though, given the blood bond they’d forged here over the wolverine’s carcass, he wouldn’t make a fuss if she did.

in tandem they turned to the rendezvous, but not before astara offered a gentle lick to her son's wounds -- a soft, motherly gesture that was the only time astara seemed anything less than a wraith on the warpath.

she was proud of aventus, even if his jealousy consumed him; astara was prone to her own spates of hatefulness, and if anything, it had likely come from her. the brats were far from her mind as she picked up the wolverine and trudged after aventus.

she would chew the tail from it, and offer it to her son as a toy. the pelt she would leave as a throw for her son's first true kill, and the claws would be quartered and later given to her sister for whatever power they brought.

fade, and new one soon?