Bearclaw Valley a loose thread, a worsening

time came for athalia as it did for @Amneris. memories of distant mother and brothers were replaced with those of ancelin and ameline. the cold yellow eyes are only found in the girl's dreams.
the birds, her friends, have gone from the cold.
the bearclaw is ever timeless, even with its new white mask. athalia liked it here, overall, even without her friends; it was quiet. it was cold, which she enjoyed, and the towering walls made her feel small. she had begun to think of it — and her new 'parents' — as home.
but nothing was ever perfect.
today, athalia cried and screeched into the emptiness, and she didn't really know why.

Ever a silent shadow to her sister, Amneris was there. She huddled among the bare branches of a bush, ears laid flat and eyes narrowed with displeasure as she watched Athalia. Her tail lashed; the bush trembled.

A mouse skittered from its depths, finally alerted to the wolven presence. A wild snap of her jaws caught the terrified creature, its final squeal mingling with the high growl in her throat as she crushed its skull between her teeth. Blood; she savored its taste for a moment, pinning it with a paw to rip the tail from its other end.

Amneris slipped from her refuge to place the mangled corpse at Athalia's feet in gruesome offering.

athalia went silent in time with the final hammering, puny shriek of the mouse. she smelled it before she saw it. turning her head on a dime, she sniffles and idly wipes the sickly drippings from her nostrils with the back of her wrist.
amneris had brought her a gift.
athalia's head dips down to nose at the offering, and a snuffling sound of thanks is given. she begins to tear it apart, dissect — the shattered skull for amneris, and the warm torso for herself.
sharing.