Bearclaw Valley By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes,

And then came a voice from the bowels of hell, or so it seemed. A frightful peal of laughter that brought each and every hair on his pelt erect and trembling. Fraser turned quickly, like a puppy chasing his tail. Stopped again, floppy ears pinned back.

H-hello? he called out, his own voice echoing off the walls of the valley. He could still hear the cackles— Who's there?

He sounded like a baby, not the man of fifteen seasons that he was. Fifteen seasons gone by and he had always been in his element, never wanted for anything, never suffered. . . Perhaps he had truly never grown. In body, yes, but his mind and soul were tremendously soft. Soft, weak.

His tail lashed, hackles raised as he continued to look for the source of the hellish guffaws.