Bearclaw Valley A delicious assortment of fresh vegetables like french fries and Nutella

Aventus blinked and lifted his head from his paws when a fat raindrop landed between his eyes. The sun was still shining over Bearclaw Valley, but somehow, rain was falling. It was a gentle drizzle, far different from the recent storms. He watched, puzzled, as a single rain cloud drifted overhead and a thin rainbow formed in the distance.

He wasn’t sure if the rain was good for the wrap around his torso. If it wasn’t, he probably shouldn’t stay outdoors, but the sun and the breeze made him feel a lot better than the stuffy medicine den. Not that Evien hadn’t done a wonderful job with the place, but a growing boy’s brain needed stimulation, and at least here he could watch little animals going about their business and daydream that they were weak little whelps that he could crush into the ground under his paws.

He sighed and placed his chin back on his legs. If the wrap got ruined, oh well. He couldn’t spend another minute indoors.

it is time. her father was right, though she didn't want to admit it. it's time to visit Aventus, on the mend in the healer's cave. or wherever he was placed; for her part, Avicus merely follows the trail, face sour as she notes the myriad comings and goings of her parents. so much attention. . .

eventually, she sits before her brother, outside in the rain. his belly is covered in some sort of wrap, and she almost thinks his fur lacks its usual glossy sheen. she takes a deep breath in, then lets it out through her nose, slowly. gathering her patience and fortitude.

not dead, Avicus says softly, indigo gaze carefully moving over his body—the muscles, the bones, sore and broken beneath the skin. but healing. not dead.

why hadn't the woman killed him? she could have so easily killed him, and yet—by the grace of something—she had not.

There was Avicus.

Aventus lifted his chin to watch his sister’s approach. His bright eyes roved every inch of her, reading the taut lines of her body and the pinched contours of her face. The swell of her breast as she pulled a steadying breath. Maybe she thought he wouldn’t notice, but he did.

Avicus rarely said a lot, and when she did, she was very to-the-point about it. Rarely did she ever proclaim that something was not dead without the intent of making it dead, especially after needing to gather herself the way she did. To hear it said of him was chilling, but equally exhilarating. Was she here to try to kill him, then, in his moment of weakness?

He canted his head upward, staring her down with sharp eyes that dared her. Maybe some part of him unnerved her, because she turned away and departed with a dismissive flick of her tail. Aventus watched her go, roiling with some unnamed emotion at the lack of care his sister showed for his wellbeing, the swiftness with which he assumed she would turn on him.