Bearclaw Valley don’t go over the edge

her children grew rapidly, as puppies often did. already they became lanky, leggy things ready to conquer the world with toothsome appeal. what astara wouldn’t give to have their energy these days —

there was an absence keenly felt. astara thought often of her daughter, with various shades of guilt — wondering if, if she had just done things a little different…

astara laid her head down on her paws and peered down the funneled entry of the den. behind her, the puppies slept — and for a brief moment astara was afforded some seldom-seen peace.

a brief moment indeed. at the absence of The Feeding Wall, asperas roused in short order, and promptly found themself incensed at the impertinence of it all. to think that their attendant might have duties or desires beyond the constant servicing of the demon that had crawled from her womb was beyond the unchild's comprehension. no, surely this was only a grievous case of neglect of astara's singular purpose. asperas, determined to correct this asinine misstep, rose up behind The Feeding Wall in silent whale-eyed rage like a looming tsunami.



a low growl simmered in her throat after a moment. how dare you leave my side, handmaid!

@Merrick @Aventus pls re-add. ty

Back from the outer worlds slunk Aventus, with the smeared red pulp that once was a killdeer clutched possessively in his jaws. The unusual feelings in his belly abated some time ago, but there lingered some semblance of indignant misunderstanding behind his silver eyes. Even now, he did not entirely understand why she had not killed the injured bird herself and why she could simultaneously be offended and apologetic, confusing, infuriating!

He went immediately to the den where his dam rested and stooped low, surprised and pleased to see her facing outward. Aventus hadn't spent any time in the company of his mother since Avicus' betrayal. His stomach knotted with nervousness. He hesitated, but then shuffled forward on his belly, proffering the bloody thing for his mother's inspection and consumption with a soft whine and wag of his tail.

Behind Astara there loomed some tiny shadow set apart from the natural shadows, and the den was suffused with the sound of an equally tiny growl. It drew his attention and he craned his neck to try to see, ever mindful of Astara's vengeful teeth and poised to scuttle back and out at a moment's notice.

it would be a few week's time before astara escaped the shadow of the den entirely; presently, her most persistent child demanded nearly 24/7 servicing. astara couldn't recall if her other children had been so insistent -- but the tiny growl of displeasure coincided with aventus' arrival.

even in her poor state, there would be little to hide the way her dull gaze got a little brighter -- the way her shoulders rounded or her ears pricked. it was not solely because of the gift in his jaws, either.

she sniffed him in her usual custom fashion -- where'd you go, what do you smell of, whodat -- once the inspection was over she roughly licked at aventus' head thankfully and all-too-eagerly seized the killdeer.

ah! fresh meat, well and truly. her jaws felt warm with salivation -- merrick kept her well fed, as did them all, but there was something about a fresh kill that truly roused the blood. mid-gobble astara remembered her children, and turned back to her tiny demon-child with reluctance.

it would be selfish of her to eat all of it, right? but... if she ate all of it, better milk for the child.. sort of.. in a reumy haze of blood and crackling bones, astara threw all but the killdeer's mangled wing down her hatch. this she dangled in front of asperas curiously.

the growl rose in pitch and intensity as events unfolded in a manner perfectly opposed to how the unchild had imagined them. a new shadow cast itself over the den entrance, foreign yet familiar and entirely unwelcome. worse yet, The Feeding Wall was immediately taken with the new presence — as if asperas was not even there!
under any other circumstance, such dire crimes would warrant punishment, drive the shadowmade bearberry to escalation; violence, perhaps, against their own creator. in the right situation, at least in this stage of life, asperas would not hesitate to quite literally bite the hand that fed her.
fortunately for the voidsent little ingrate, a convenient distraction presented itself, thus saving asperas from the ill-advised outburst threatening to rear its ugly head. perhaps in time, she would learn that to lash out against astara would be to shred herself like cheese against the razor edges of her feral birthgiver, and think twice before allowing such impulses to materialize. for now, the tiny beast thought only of their own whims — which presently had latched to the scent of blood with locking crocodile jaws.
the indignant rumble died in asperas's throat, replaced by an exaggerated sniff as her nose lifted to locate the source. the inherently long-winded nature of youthful inquiry was lost on the spiderling, who was soon placated by what seemed like a prompt and attentive response from astara; they had entirely missed the interlude of tiny birdbones crunched between teeth and blood sluiced down ravenous throat, tunnel vision focus filtering all but the saltmetal scent of blood. attention now centered on the limp bloodied wing proffered by her tireless butler, asperas decided the stranger was of little consequence (or rather, completely forgot his existence).
asperas snapped at the dangled gift with little coordination, a drunken piranha in spirit, and caught bloodied feathers first. the spiderling did not react immediately, first taking in the thin metallic taste of bird blood. the wrongness of texture hit next, denoted by the deep wrinkle of her tiny pointed muzzle, and her tongue began to work against the roof of her mouth to expel the foul-feeling feathers. when the last of the feathers spiraled from her jaws, she snatched at the offending wing with all her body weight behind the movement with the goal of retreating to the farthest reaches of the den to tear every feather from it and find the source of that alluring metallic flavor.

His wag picked up speed at the sight of Astara brightening. He wasn't as close to her as father nor as privy to whatever was going on with her, but he worried all the same. Secretly, Aventus blamed himself. While he knew Avicus' challenge was not his fault, her exile from the pack was — there was no alternate outcome where both of them remained — and it seemed as though Astara's sickness coincided with her departure.

The thought of it weighed heavy as a stone in his belly, but he put it aside when she snuffled at his hide and accepted the killdeer. A sheepish light danced in his eyes with a glance at it. He wished he could have presented a whole carcass rather than the smashed and smeared thing he'd reduced it to, but he didn't regret the dark game he'd played with the soft ivory girl to get it in that state.

Aventus almost forgot about the pups, but then Astara dangled a wing and a small, dark hellion erupted out of the shadows to snatch it and retreat. He snatched his ears back against his nape at the sheer ferocity of the child — being born to killers, Aventus did not often balk at violence, but its face on such a tiny creature was deeply unsettling even to him. The sway of his tail faltered and his soft whine was a question as he peered back at Astara with drooping brows.

Even Avicus was not so violent at such a young age.