Blackfeather Woods issorartuyok

There were many ways in which the young bear was like his uncle. They shared a similar headstrong approach, and carried a serious countenance about them in most scenarios. While the young boy was not aware of the mental comparisons that were made, that was probably for the best. Sos was special; he was a child of the world. The entire breath of all things had been poured into his blood and bones to carefully craft a creature that walked and spoke for the life of earth, and that could be compared to no one. Still, he was young and full of room for growth; it only made sense that his family should associate many of his actions and behaviors to be similar to one of their own. He shared the blood that they shared, after all, but time would show that the young Sos was very different from Siarut. He was a shaman, birthed for one purpose. When the bear found his own purpose, the others would see it within him as well.

Turning his head back to the skies to peer at the black-winged scavengers, the child felt a swelling of appreciation for them. At his aunt's description of the birds of shadow, he felt a somber sense wash over him. Ah, the dark birds were magnificent creatures, then. A kinship had been struck between the young bear and the ravens; he had found a sense of companionship in his first creature that did not share the blood of the wolf. This was a pivotal moment for the young man, though it would take him many months more before he realized it. The ravens were a sign of all that there was to his world. The beating hearts of many living creatures surrounded him, and he was destined to feel them all.

“Dey'r good,” he told Tahani with a short nod. “Dey'r friend to me.”