Bearclaw Valley triple six, five, forked tongue

Tagging @Karst! Though anyone is welcome!

While his brother busied himself with his new habit of wandering and fraternising with the locals, even coming up with a new name for himself, Astyanax seemed to have stalled in his development. If he had any ambitions, they were only his to know, locked in a mind that had a marked difficulty with words. He preferred physicality, and had taken a liking to displaying acts of dominance and aggression on inanimate objects.

An innocent sapling was the subject of his attention this day, and the boy let out soft growls and grunts as he pulled at one of the spindly branches with his teeth. It leaned so far over that it was almost parallel to the ground as Astyanax backed up slowly, every so often giving it a tug.

The roots strained underground, twisting and snapping with every jerk, though the branch within his teeth was slowly beginning to wear away — which was going to break first was the question.