Bearclaw Valley dream-land

MY BABY

astara had no such dreams of soft skies and distant stars. motherhood was exhausting to the point where even her mind seemed to shutdown come slumber; she was out hard, and unaware that merrick prowled close until a sharp scream jostled her awake.

her eyes flew open, and on mother's instinct alone she could feel that naked, bare spot where a child was supposed to be. she rose silently, stepping gingerly over aventus -- her dark pupils darting around the den before landing on merrick hunched over one of their children.

astara froze mid-prowl, a low growl pressed from her throat. she did not wish to deny him his right to be father -- but if it came with any inkling of malevolence, his blackbird would not hesitate to find her pound of flesh.