Bearclaw Valley rum. bring a bottle of it.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. Rainwater sluiced through his downy coat and reached through his flesh to his very bones, and every gust of wind cut right through to his marrow. It wasn't long before Aventus began to shiver, but from his Melonii heritage he had inherited a great deal of conviction. He'd committed to sneaking after his one-eyed sire, to learn where it was the dragon went when he was away, and he was determined to see it through.

Alas, Merrick knew he was there. Aventus knew it, too, when the Bruin-witch grew still. He felt the absurd hook of panic in his midriff and began to creep backward, one slow step at a time, as if he thought he could disappear into the storm and return home without being caught, but Merrick dashed all hope of that when he addressed his son.

He stoppered his breath in his lungs, entertained the notion that if he didn't move or make a sound, he would truly be invisible. For a child in a normal family with normal, playful parents, that would've made sense. Aventus and his living situation were far from normal, and it made for a cunning but unimaginative boy who knew the only way to be invisible was to disappear into the shadows. He'd thought he could do it, but Merrick was all-knowing. Merrick hadn't voiced a punishment, only a question with a nudge that Aventus shied instinctively away from.

Do you want to go hunting? Aventus didn't know how to hunt, but it was better than being left in the rain alone now that he'd been discovered. It was better than being reprimanded, too. He scurried after his sire when Merrick changed directions and slowly parted his jaws to utter a word, the very first word anyone had likely heard him say, for he only practiced in solitude: yes.