Bearclaw Valley a descent into the maelstrom

the woman's approach is a far greater diversion than the butterfly. she turns awkwardly on her heel, the monarch fluttering away at the sudden movement. the wolf is interesting enough, but the. . .other. . .

Avicus slinks toward the muskrat, sniffing at its limp form and cool fur. limp, cool, still. like the worm, which once had moved but moved no longer.

she presses against its side, shaking it with insistent forepaws, then hangs back, a growl gurgling in her throat.

it remains still. cold. limp.