Bearclaw Valley CAULIFLOWER IS TRADITIONAL

astara fought the urge to recoil as the male turned around to face her, his spine rounded in ether pain or shame — or both. revulsion crept in spiderthin legs across her features, her lip curling in response. 

she had no answer for his sobs or sniveling. no correction for his assumed misidentity. instead her only goal was to lure him from her home — from merrick. 

astara approached in swift strides, as if to kindly greet him — but then, snapped her teeth near his hunching form, and drove off through the snow in a long-strided gallop.

she lead him away from merrick, from her home -- for every time the white ghost lagged, astara rallied him -- until at last he was well from the heart of bearclaw, and deposited into a cold wilderness astara deemed reasonably safe from her home.