Bearclaw Valley Lead our woes asunder 'neath the proud, proud veins

the clack of the bones sickened ancelin. not for the fact they appeared to be — kin — but for the fact that the valley had begun to prevail upon him a sense that he had once been here.
these days, ancelin kept his belly filled, taking his cues from ameline. it appeared to be the best way to feed the pups, and slowly he added these new skills to a mental talent tree that he hoped would help in the spring.
"whatcha got there, sport?" the bearclaw murmured, plucking the last bit of gristle from a rabbit femur. his tail thumped on the ground behind him, almost unbidden.