Bearclaw Valley behind your silence and your suffering

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So much had happened in these past few days. The auspicious birth of Merrick and Astara's children beneath the spring moon. The tense scuffle outside her nest. Discord among the pack and, unknown to Galena, violence at their borders. She had not interfered when the Bruin-Witch tagged her mate, drawing blood, or when the Bear King came down upon the dog. She had watched from the forest's edge... observed besides Orson. She was still understanding her place in it all. It wasn't that the lioness lacked confidence — she was a reticent creature by nature.

It was early. Spring dew wet her toes as she patrolled Ursus' inner circle. The scent of Merrick caught her nose, and so she trailed the Witch. He laid sphinx-like before an altar, an arrangement of bones and offerings. As it stood, Galena did not know about the spiritual aspects that drove her king to become an architect in order to realize Ursus. 

"Merrick," she said coolly as she approached the dark man, regarding the white jaw, "do you pray?"

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