Bearclaw Valley We abandon one-another.

The boy was appropriately distracted. He sauntered through one small conglomeration or another, kicking and pawing and generally causing mayhem. The sound of the driest leaves crumbling to his desires was incredibly satisfying to him. Glaucos did not consider piling them together in to a proper mound to annihilate, having inherited some level of simplicity from his father, but he left a mess in his wake. The game of find leaf, crush leaf, repeat had his full attention—to the point that any approaching steps were lost in the crunching chaos he created.

The shape of the older boy rose up behind him and he was oblivious; then came the strike, and as Glaucos was swept off-balance he thought it was part of the game. That maybe he had leapt in a manner that caused him to slip and bowl, except there came a scything pain to his nape and before he could comprehend what was happening, he was eating debris. Leaf-litter jammed against his tongue. He felt his teeth grind in to the dirt, coughing and flailing in vain.