Silvertip Mountain many lilies lost in the choking grass

Merrick would find Aventus lounging beneath a tree, sucking marrow from a bone. The chirring of insect wings masked the sound of his sire's paws approaching, but Merrick's long shadow fell over him moments before the Bruin-witch began to speak.

Overhead, a hornet buzzed among the foliage. Aventus angled one ear toward Merrick and kept tabs on the stinger with the other. He dropped the bone across his elbow and peered up at his father, lips tugging up at the corners. Neighbours? His favourite.

Give me leave to spend a week in the flatlands, said Aventus, and I will pretend to join their rank when our scent has gone, if it pleases you. That was a most surefire way to gather information. Aventus could pretend to be whoever he wanted to be, gain the trust of the locals, and report to Merrick on the side. If his father wished that, anyway, and if Ursus could spare him for a time.