Wapun Meadow How else would we find satisfactory meats to feed those sad, scrawny animals?

Maybe he was just hungry.

His silver eyes were twin masks concealing his intentions, leaving him impassive and unreadable. If not for his upbringing, the notion that a cub could be any sort of enigma would've been laughable, but what should've been a face sparked with wonder and transparent awe was instead one christened in blood, haunted by horrors beyond most cubs' imagining. Though if Aventus realized his life and his behaviour both were highly unusual, there was no indication of it in his carefully composed features.

Yet even as veiled as his thoughts might be, there was no hiding the surprised lift of his tiny brows when Phaedra mimicked him. If she failed to notice that, then the sudden stir of his tail at his hindquarters, a brief and hesitant wag, betrayed him. She introduced herself. Aventus wasn't much of a speaker in uninitiated company, but he was not his mother, either. He understood spoken word even if his mastery of it was shaky at best, and behind other cubs his age. I have no idea if he even knows his name but even if he does, he wouldn't give it in return, because manners are for schmucks.

Once more, his tongue flickered up to touch the indented philtrum, wetting the bottoms of his nostrils. She raised her voice and he flinched, snatching back his ears like one might snatch a burned finger from a hot element, but they ventured forward again almost immediately. He focused on her absolutely pink-ass nose and, just as he had with Ico, parted his lips to silently pantomime her words back at her, uttering nary a sound. But the crooked line of a grin followed, the nearly imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, like he'd just told some excellent joke.

What would she do now? Evidently nothing, because some adult or another came marching up out of Ursus' valley and snatched him up by his scruff, paying no heed at all to the pale-haired girl as they toted the cowed Bearberry home.