Bearclaw Valley No, child, you cannot have grenades or assault rifles in the classroom

astara had seen aventus' form gravitate towards the den's entrance; she watched in silence, as was customary for her. in the days that had followed her bearcub's chaotic introduction to this world, even she had noticed her son was far more quiet than his sibling.

perhaps he came by that proclivity honestly; astara had never spoken a word in her life. perhaps, he might grow to be something very similar -- or perhaps not. if he shared the same pelt color as his dam, could he not share other things?

astara's rumination on aventus' psyche was cut short as she saw him come close to that hidden line. for now, the blackbird did not intercept -- she was content to let him explore his surroundings, so long as he remained safe. maybe she was unorthodox, or maybe just an extremely inexperienced mother -- all the same, she felt compelled to act only if he traipsed past that invisible border.