Bearclaw Valley "I have plans for you."

What did it matter if new blood came and took residence in this place? He held no claim to it, only the ghosts that inhabited a time and place that no longer existed. Glaukos didn't know why he even came this far in the first place.

His thoughts were suddenly and intrusively flooded with the image of a den whose floor was soaking red mud, and he saw the looming shape of a great bear standing glass eyed above him; or was it his children he saw, with himself the looming figure?

What is Ursus? A voice ruptured the air behind him, beside him; close enough to be a surprise and far enough to avoid the sharp lash of his glare when Glaukos returned to himself. With his focus divided he only heard the first wolf, the slurring woman, move to stand beside the other.

A coven of powerful witches. Glaukos would answer, and the glare in his eyes became a faraway thing. Followers of now dead gods. He wasn't sure if he could believe that, though. Given how his life had panned out so far—had Glaukos ever really escaped from his role as a subservient little boy, afraid of the wrath of those more powerful than himself?

Bothered now by this level of introspection and strange vulnerability that flooded him, he grimaced at the pairs of eyes trained upon him and stalked with more insistence along the path. His movement was sudden, hulking, and boldly close to them; but it was clear he did not mean to strike, only to continue on his way in this distracted manner.