Bearclaw Valley the sleeper

in short—no. her eyes follow the squirrel as it darts upward, hiding in the branches, chattering madly. a brief pause, in which she weighs her options. she is hungry—always hungry—and yet she remembers when Merrick had helped her with the groundhogs. 

maybe she can help, too.

it is, perhaps, the first altruistic thought she has ever had; she doesn't think much of the character growth, focusing instead on digging a hasty hole and tossing her kill inside, scraping dirt over it, and trotting to join Ashlar near the tree. she huddles down in a blanket of leaves, her ruddy fur blending near-perfectly, and nods over to him to do the same.

they can wait it out. the squirrel will come down eventually for more nuts. Avicus stills herself, her muscles, her tail—even seeking to quiet the loud and enlivened beating of her heart, lest it gives them away.