Bearclaw Valley some kind of soul come from within us

astara was a beast consumed by jealousy.

she was jealous of merrick; of his natural beauty, of his beastliness -- of the gods that spoke to him.

she was jealous too, of her sister: of how she had one foot seemingly in the netherworld. of her silver gossamer fur. of how starkly the blood clung to her coat -- how beautiful, how savage -- how much she wanted to be white in that moment, and bask alongside averna as a godsayer and not the simpering idiot she was --

averna's chanting had ended during astara's envious ruminations. by the time she recovered, she noticed her ghostly sister was gone.

for a moment astara sat with her swollen belly in the clearing, and hoped her spiderlings would sow nothing but hate in this world.