Bearclaw Valley Green, green thunder and the loud, loud rain

as lilia's sneezes sounded, ancelin stood close and sent his indigo eyes flickering over the front of the valley. high walls with a single entrance of red soil, now dulled by weather's chafing.
in his own spirit, he had nursed a fickle and great hurt, the loss of avicus. and he had indeed lost her, and with each step away from redtail rise, ancelin felt that pain ripping open inside him, dissolving the stitching around father hurt and mother wound and brother pain until they all bled together.
ancelin had been silent on their journey, sometimes staring at those stars until he slept or finally abandoned the chance of it, getting up to hunt.
the mornings were brisk; hot plumes of breath accompanied breakfast and words.
he could smell snow, all animal instincts as his pelt kept thickening in response to the changing weather and his new situation.
at last, gladly and eagerly, ancelin drank them all in, along with emerging memories: how atreus had tried to isolate him from their cousins, how a shouting fight between aventus and avicus had set the formative pattern of toxicity for both boys. his brother, refusing to come home. his father, locking words with his sister yet again, this time over war. avicus, saying put your scent here. bonding. bonded.
his heart ached.
his eyes ached.
his throat ached.
ancelin snorted and padded through the cloud of dust, squinting until the air could clear, and the first thing he saw was the stone sentry at the entryway, a giant boulder perfect to see the entire meadow outside. 
primal, ancient trees towered, clustered with thick ferns and the slow creaking of branches older than the entire world.
his jaw fell a little; he looked back toward lilia, registering nothing about possible inhabitants.