Bearclaw Valley however dangerous this may be

rain passed overhead in thundering sweeps. astara watched the tranquil latticework of water as it fell in drippings from cave to floor, pooling without reflection at the den's entrance.

eventually the rain passed on to different pastures, leaving the fishbowl's terrace for higher climes. astara pressed into the damp world gingerly, drawn by the call of her bear.

not for the first time did an iciness steal over her skin as she saw others assembled around him. it had always been just her and merrick, just blackbird and bear --

and now...

she did not sit near merrick. a hatefulness seized her heart to see that spot -- her spot -- already taken. despite the choking hold of jealousy that burned in her gut, astara's dark muzzle remained a mask of impassiveness. unreadable as ever she set next to the male that had tended her wounds and named her leila.