Bearclaw Valley goodness is eternally difficult

It was the breath.

Aventus, being a newborn, would retain no memory of the event, but he'd been baptized in that breath. Brought to the cold, harsh earth above ground by those rank teeth. Whether he had memories of it or not, Merrick was forever etched into his senses, so when his father breathed unheard words over his body, Aventus went rigid.

It was fear that washed over him—reverent fear, the kind you never mustered the courage to challenge head-on. The little spider that Aventus was tailing took the opportunity to scuttle away, leaving the boy cowering before the frightening visage of his father. A quick turn of his head brought his blurry blue eyes up to Merrick's singular gold one, and a shiver passed through him, devoid of the curiosity an ordinary pup might feel about a new wolf in their vicinity. He didn't need to know anything else about Merrick.

This was his inimitable father, more powerful and frightening than any force Aventus had ever known.