Bearclaw Valley i've seen their worlds inside my head

one was bold, one was not. astara would have laughed at life's irony had she known the beginnings of indra's life -- now came a red brand of confidence, borne of her own blood -- instilled with something far more feral than any melonii had ever whelped. she watched as avicus slunk forward, her eyes trained on her tail -- nimbly, she twitched the tip as the girl pounced, incentive for her to play all the rougher.

for now she ignored the nettling pain; her children would grow strong and confident, not insipid like indra had been. pathetic and helpless -- how astara loathed the red woman for her last few breaths; if only she had died quicker.

to not even fight.. to not even press against the oppression that dared suppress your life -- astara could not understand.


merrick was a deviancy from that line, and how lucky he was to have dodged that genetic lottery. her gaze lifted from daughter to startled son, but a shade lingered out of her periphery that she knew all too well.

soothing aventus' frilled neck-fur with a lap of her tongue, astara eyed the man as he pulled closer. she had once considered him her lover; did he still love her then, despite the weeks that had passed like an eternity between them? had he found comfort in another's flesh in that time -- would she know if he had? her suspicions of phoebe where wholly ungrounded, but all the same her gaze needled as she bore merrick in full; devastating and as familiar as the crunch of bone against her teeth, but hers all the same.

would he be hers always?