Bearclaw Valley a predicament

From a distance, tucked beneath a bush, Aventus watched Avicus prowl through the rainy haze. She was more antagonistic than usual since the introduction of two invading whelps in their lives. He was avoiding her. He avoided them, too, and Astara by extension. Some days he sought the one-eyed dragon. Other days, he spent alone.

Unlike Avicus, Aventus wasn't jealous of the new cubs suckling from Astara. He'd seen them one or twice, small things compared to him, weak. Pathetic. He'd felt the warm beat of wrath in his throat at the sight of them. Of the thought of the dynamic they sullied with their vulnerability and their dependency.

They were as prey to him.

So when one came tumbling out into the rain, Aventus slipped from his cover beneath the booming thunder and began to stalk toward it, on the opposite side of the clearing from Avicus. He was cautious of inviting his sibling's rage and slunk in a low, hesitant manner, but if she just gave him the chance to move into place, she might recognize a pincer formation.

With little Glaucous pinned right in the middle of them, smelling of piss and mother's milk and fear.