Swiftcurrent Creek Teach Me to Sing

Valtýr continued to pummel his sister with abandon, completely unaware the beetle had narrow escaped his flailing paws. Vaa noo, Maera said as she scuttled backwards, narrowly missing another well-aimed swipe. "Wha???" he stammered as his gaze searched for the insect, but found it was no longer attached to his little sister's mug. "Beeeeee," he rumbled, hungering for revenge... oh yes, it would be theirs. Valtýr's nubby nose sniffed the ground (not truly knowing what he was doing but rather mimicking the adults) and transformed into a pint-sized sleuth.

He shuffled along the ground, dirt covering his nose, as he hunted for the beetle. A sun ray highlighted its shiny shell at the cusp of the burrow and - without waiting for Maera's backup - Valtýr charged like a kamikaze straight for it. "RAHHHHH!!!" he hollered, squeaking as he became a fuzzy blitzkrieg... an uncultured barbarian with a thirst for vengeance. "BEEEEEE," he shrieked as he gave a final hop with surprising agility, both paws landing square on the bug. Squish.

Uh oh.

The concept of destruction and death was new to Valtýr, who had never seen a living, breathing creature turn into pieces. He still drank milk, and sometimes ate the meat the adults retched for him... but never had he made the connection that the dead bird he often played with had once been alive. He paused, breathing a bit heavy, and lifted one paw to reveal the insect's juicy innards smeared along his pads. What... what had he done? Instantly, streams of crocodile tears ran down his sooty face and he sobbed.