Bearclaw Valley a descent into the maelstrom

The child smiles, but Orson did not feel comforted by it. It was not a genuine smile, but a mimic. Like the child was fey-born, a changeling, still learning to infiltrate their society one day at a time. A frivolous tale that her mind had come up with, but it still felt true.

'ere's a bite, love, She tore the fur from the muskrat's leg, then pulled, tearing a stringy piece of bloody flesh off. Since yew's been so interested, she offered the piece to the pup, wondering what they would do next.