Dawn Treader Valley and give me what’s mine

as it turned out, viva la resistance grew feebler the hungrier one got. he took to his meal like a mule to grain; too tired to complain of the funny taste or put up much a fuss. 

rowdy missed the regular meal times and warmth of his mama; he missed the quiet strength and play of his papa — these things he wept for at night when the old witch chased him to bed. 

the elixir that stained the meat dark kept rowdy compliant. it was just enough to take the edge off without dulling him completely to the bite of his new life. 

nestled next to riot, rowdy eyed his brother’s share hungrily but stayed put. the witch had been kind to them — gracious even — but at times something prohibitively ugly flit across her face like a shadow, terrifying him. 

his gaze flickered to stormchaser sullenly, wondering if he had anymore food to give. when none was provided rowdy slumped to his belly with a whine, forlornly tracing the descent of the river as it fed into a strangely red terrain. no want akashigo. he sighed in the sad manner only a puppy could muster. i wan’ mama.