Bearclaw Valley So raise your glass now and celebrate exactly what you've done.

I was thinking about how Ikkalrok was too dead to name her kids, and since Astara is non-verbal she likely wouldn't, so I'm gonna have Glaucos name himself.. sometime in this thread.

There was a big void in the trees. He'd been staring at it for a while now, wanting to visit the copse standing near the middle of the valley, but also afraid to do so. The void was round and tall; bigger than a wolf and with a deeper smell.

The closest he got was a few feet shy of the trailing dirt path leading in to it. He huddled beside the narrow tail of the path which wound towards a hill, staring at the dirt. There in the mud sat a massive depression: longer than any wolf print he'd seen, with large claw-marks curving off of it.

The boy sniffed at the shape a few times and stared off at the distant shadow-heavy trees, deciding at the last minute to investigate anyway, but he did not approach them. Instead he travelled opposite: along that recursive path towards the hill, where grass became gravel, then stone, and was surprised when the smell got even stronger.

He'd followed it in reverse thinking he was going somewhere safer—but beyond where he stood, among the limestone and gypsum and clinging soggy moss, was a dark hole.

making some assumptions and being vague

she's laid low since the man had gone after her mother, unsure of what to think. on the whole, she is glad it is handled. but there's still a part of her that thirsts for. . .more. she can't sate it. she chases small game, increasingly larger game—she gnaws upon her own growing paws, sometimes drawing blood.

it isn't the same. nothing brings the thrill that was knowing a life ebb away into death, a pulse fading upon her tongue.

but then—maybe. she spots the boy from a short distance away, headed into the copse. a buzzing excitement fills her stomach as she follows, the hair upon her spine aloft. he would be an easier target than the lanky cad who'd dared to touch Astara.

but another smell fills her nostrils: that of the not-wolf, the kind man, who'd long since left the valley. it lingers here; this must have been his den. 

friend, Avicus remarks, repeating a word Jaylen had taught her and hoping to startle the younger boy. she, too, stares into the dark hollow, a gaping maw of possibility. she does not draw alongside him but remains behind, eyeing the place where his neck meets his shoulders.

so fragile.

As he was inserting his head in to the thick shadow of the hole, something crept up behind him. The boy was not very attentive on the best of days, however, he was on high-alert with the strange smell in the air and was slowly learning to trust his gut; it told him he was in danger, so he paused and then backed up.

The emberous form of one of his tormentors was there beside him—no, behind. Close enough to make his shaggy nape prickle but not so close as to cause bodily harm (yet). The biggest surprise came when they blurted a word: friend.

That was not something he would have associated with either of his step-siblings. It caught him off-guard, and as he pivots to keep an eye upon her he snaps back, No. Go 'way. Even as he's issuing the command the bastard child recognizes the error of it.

oho, he fights back now instead of sitting in a puddle of his own piss? her eyes burn with reproach as the retort sails her way, lips curling upward into a snarl. snakelike, she strikes, aiming to seize his nape and drag him to the ground, to press his face against the dirt.

let him smell the bear. let him know that no matter how much time that her parents spend with him, he will never—never—be one of them. 

grubby little shit.

He knows he's done the wrong thing and somehow deserves the teeth aimed for his flesh, knows what it will feel like to have them pinch and pull, knows the taste of the dirt even now. That expectation of an attack is helpful to him. He does not have the brawn of his forebears yet but he has the height and pulls away from her as she reaches for him.

Teeth graze his nape, too close for comfort, and he thrusts his sharp snout towards her as if to joust with her neck; whether he is successful or not the boy feels a flood of adrenaline and - for the first time - a vague thrill of confidence. It is there, and it is gone, but the taste is delicious.

Avicus is not expecting the sharp prod of the boy's nose against her neck. her attempt to grasp him goes unsuccessful, and she instead is shoved back, genuinely surprised that he is reacting. that he is successfully reacting.

it just makes her all the more bloodthirsty.

i can kill you, she spits, her pelt a bristling brushfire. she dips her head slightly, indigo eyes burning into his own. i'll kill you. it feels to her more a promise than a threat.

she lunges for his belly, low to the earth, the scent of bear heady in her nose.

I can kill you, the girl seethes and he knows the threat is real; not so much the seriousness of it, the finality of death despite his life thus far being steeped in it, but the tone is enough to make him back down. The repeated offering — the stare of her plum gaze — cows him.

...karst, he squeaks out of the blue; not friend... K-karst. its just a bit of word-vomit but he repeats it, as if the mantra of it might stave away the beast she was. He backs away from her in to the dark hollow where the bear scent is so strong. No killing.

k-karst?! she barks, her voice a mocking echo. she is pleased that her threat seems to have worked, watching him back away into the shadows. she presses inexorably onward, enjoying the thrill of the chase. had he shown any sort of defense or retort, as he had before, she might have found a new respect for him.

as it is. . .he remains prey.

Avicus places her paw within a massive print near the entrance to the hollow, scuffing around in the dirt there. friend, she emphasizes, giving the boy a gimlet stare. she hadn't meant him. it's the large man, the one she hasn't seen for some time. who'd shown her kindness and patience. this is—was—his home.

once that's been established, the girl begins to make her way toward the pathetic whelp once more, looking over the graceful, delicate curve of his dark-pelted throat.

His outburst is mirrored by a mocking shout, then a correction. The red girl scratches and marks the dirt while pointedly staring at him, indicating it was not Karst that she was calling friend; that made more sense, thought it burned in a way the boy did not anticipate.

Swiftly enough Avicus' glare became something hungry—and the boy lost the force that had empowered him, making himself small before the moody darkness of her attention. He tucked his chin out of habit, well spiced with fear, muttering - oh.

she snorts. oh, she mocks once more, and then charges just to see him flinch. she pulls up a hairsbreadth away, motes of dust swirling between the two of them, sparkling in the traces of light that somehow find their way into this cavernous place. she blinks slowly, once, twice, gimlet gaze fixed upon his pathetic face.

a second later, she abruptly pushes past, leaving him to his exploration. try as he might, he would never be one of them, one of the bears. had she known he would one day far eclipse her in size, perhaps she would be more tactful.

for now, Avicus is a proud princess, testing the limits of her privilege. an Icarus, hovering dangerously close to the sun.

Fading this?

Karst winces in to himself as the girl charges at him, only to stop short without harming him. He feels the hot burn of embarrassment for his reaction and a lingering chill denoting his dislike of this game; it isn't really a game, but in his young mind he has nothing else to call her antics, and he certainly does not want to engage any further than he has. The way she looks at him makes Karst feel tiny, and he displays his insecurity by curling his tail close, tipping his chin down.

When Avicus shoves past him he closes his eyes and holds back a tremble, expecting to feel pain. That's the one constant between the two bearcubs: they often brought the hot sting of pain with them, doling it out the way Evien would offer up his remedies.

The moment she is out of range to hurt him, Karst is on his feet and skittering away in the other direction - tail tucked and body low, contorted to a diminutive size as much as he was able, eager to slip away.