Bearclaw Valley archespore

stigmata came to a heel, swinging the spear-tip that was his muzzle towards the buoyant approach of a rather husky little boy. the wolf stopped what he was doing and eased out of his anxious ruminations with a squeaky yawn. he regarded the valley prince now, his expression sunken and rather bare, but his slender tail wagged gently; not that the youngster needed any invitation. stigmata pried through his early tells, wondering what such prominent, thickset features might look like when he was older.

"trying to kill a big bird," he answered without reservation, then added: "but it is impossible for now." he motioned towards the jut of long, jagged branches overlapping the sheer cliffside, and he reclined on his tailbone to watch in mute interest what he presumed to be a spawn of redleaf. would this boy be a great powerhouse, forward and charging like a bull, or would he just be  a big wall -- a giant handsome ham? judging by that midsection, it would probably be the latter, but stigmata was surprisingly the kind to hold  out hope even if he wouldn't gamble on it.