Wapun Meadow learning that i’m deserving of love and the peaceful heart

not even a tuft of fur stirred on astara's frame as she watched merrick's mother, a ruddy ball of twisted vines, slowly unravel. her head and heart moved for her companion as he spoke of his own suffering, and as a keen edge of pain hit his voice astara lifted her gaze, challenging the woman that dared hurt him so.

she would pay.

astara's teeth grit in savage satisfaction as she watched the mother turn and leave, leave again, like she had done to her undeserving son so many times. had she words, astara might have spat out that indra did not deserve a quick death, nor a son so magnificent.

instead she smiled to herself to see the fear choke the woman's senses, and like a dark serpent, slithered in the snow after indra's fading form.