Bearclaw Valley You, of course, should always chant when you wash your hands

Today, Astara remained his superior in sneaking. Aventus was not aware of her at all. He remained wrapped up in his thoughts, with the burbling water masking any sound she might have made. He would have remained oblivious to her, if not for a curious silvery glint that caught his eye in the water. He stopped where he was, peering at the winking light in the shallows, and craned his neck toward it...

Only to whirl around when Solaria chuffed, revealing Astara's proximity to him in the process. He blinked once at his dam—how did she come up on him so silently?—but then turned his attention to the newcomer. He knew she was a newcomer because the only time he had ever seen her was when the pack hunted the bull elk, but she did a good job of conveying it with her body language, too.

It felt weird to him to receive such a display, but it also satisfied some primal part of him that expected that level of respect by virtue of his birth. He gave his tail an easy wag and let his posture and rigid ears relax a little. Still, she was new, and he was eager to test out the bounds of his newfound authority.

So he came to stand over Solaria, jostling into her space with a clack of his jaws and a round-eyed stare despite the wag in his tail, as though to see how much lower she would go to appease her leaders.