Bearclaw Valley don’t get lost in heaven, they got locks on the gates

Just a cameo!

But Aventus was there all the same.

He remained on the far side of the moss-draped clearing, body entangled with trees entangled with shadows, and watched the dark mouth of the den and his father's razorbacked aspect endlessly haunting. Aventus knew better than to draw near, so chose to remain hidden, but the scent of blood and afterbirth and fever on the wind kept him close by. He didn't know whether the scents made him feel sick or hungry or both.

He was too distant for the sharp sweep of his ears to detect the mewling of the newborns, but hearing them or not, it made no difference in his plans. His traitorous sister had shown him there was no victory in standing against his blood, else he might have felt very differently; he brooded and burned in feeling blamed for her betrayal, rather than feeling bolstered for successfully defending his rank, as he felt he deserved. The black cloud of rancor swept through him on a daily basis, fuelling his spite for her and steeling his resolve to do better with these ones.

They would know him for the loyalist he was. They would see him as brother and as leader both. And in return they would have his regard, his ear, and his teeth until such a time as they lost the privilege of it, and if they turned on him as treacherous Avicus had, then they chose their own fate. Those two sniveling brats whose names he had never bothered to learn, he would have killed if given half a chance, but they were never Ursus. Never worthy, never his mother's kin. These were the blood of his blood. These were Ursus, and he would defend them so long as they never betrayed their family.

Turning from the shadows, the boy departed, keen to reinforce the borders against intruders and spread the word of the newest Bearberries.