Bearclaw Valley corpseweave [m]

The stranger barely had time to gather his muscles before Aventus launched after him, all clacking teeth and flying spittle. His sire's tongue tracing his dark lips was like the gunshot to start the races. His son obliged without hesitation.

He streaked after Ålesund, whose dark head and saddle looked a little like ghostly, disembodies apparitions floating over the snow. The rest of him blended in. He snapped at the intruder's heels and allowed himself a guttural roil of growling laughter, torn between allowing Ålesund to get away unscathed and lunging properly for the man. Merrick ran close by, spurring Aventus onward.

Until they came to a stop with heaving breath that wreathed their twin dark muzzles with coldsmoke.