Bearclaw Valley What good to be a god myself, unless things can touch your heart?

the motherless boy lay spread across damp earth ensconced in mud, tail splashing loudly against a growing puddle. it was that noise that first drew astara in, inquiringly.

how had the little monsters fared under averna's watch? a once over by astara's hard gaze, and it seemed they were at least not starving. adequate, given they were (as astara believed) merrick's sons.

it was only that perceived blood relation that kept astara's fangs at bay.