Heron Lake Plateau and when you wanted someone else, i withdrew

At nearly four months old, Svalinn was beginning to develop at a rate faster than previously observed, and with legs too long and feet too wide, he was constantly trying to find a way to expel the surge of boyish hardihood driving him, as well as the ceaseless growing pains he felt wringing him ragged. Caiaphas' cunning way of raising her children didn't seem to be doing him any favors either. She had thoughtfully let her daughter and golden grandson starve -- dieting them to the point of self-preservation and raising a pair of insatiable hellions in the process -- so when she returned to them with a fresh lesson of "kill or die", the overly peckish Eyjolfur responded exactly as a hungry predator should.

His approach was hesitant, halted by the floundering of the still-alive beaver, but the scent of prey accompanied by the tang of its blood-letting injury obliged him to engage the creature in a pellmell attack. He was a graceless young killer: savage and ineffectual to a degree, but his intent was quite clear and he used what he could to his advantage; chiefly, his size and half a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. He straddled the beaver, trying to suppress its movements with his gold-plated weight as he ravaged the back of its neck with the same kind of vigorous gnawing he often showed his stick-friends.

Instinctively his mouth went for the wound Caiaphas' had already dealt the creature, but he went about it clumsily and without tact.