Bearclaw Valley Uncertain flame

bold of the stranger to lift his chin and keep his tail up among an audience of territorial wolves. bold... or stupid.

astara marked the boy with a cold glare, her black plume of a tail arcing over her haunches in response.

it would be easy -- too easy -- to make an example of the child at their steps. it would be like shooting fish in a barrel; amusing, but where was the sport?

she, along with her ursine compatriots, watched this boy converse with her bear hungrily. she was proud of each of them -- the healer, the gargoyle, the silvered sylph -- they showed ursus as a finer force than easthollow could ever muster.

all merrick would need to do to unleash toothy bedlam was say the word. astara's gaze bore into clay hopefully, wondering if he would be as limp and pathetic between her teeth as indra had been.