Bearclaw Valley [m] feiticeira

as their baby girls thronged around ankles and plied ears with little cries, ancelin glowered again, almost hateful in his rage.
bear. canine. deliberate either way.
ameline once more was the voice of calm reason for the reactive young king. "yes. we will." he waited until the princesses had taken the scent, eyeing each of them in turn as he conveyed a sense of caution.
what good little fighters they'd be.
he circled the head, motioning everyone back; he pissed cleanly on the skull and the flattened grass around it, emptying the bearclaw fragrances defiantly on top of the witchmark meant to ward them away.
tongue lolled in a sudden grin. it belonged to them now, this object of curse and poison. perhaps when the skin dried away and the blood was gone, they'd perch it on some branch leading into the valley.
"in not so long you'll be ready to hunt," ancelin murmured to their girls, lifting a paw to motion away, back to the den and the guardianship of their valley.
he met ameline's gaze with stoic pleasure. "we hunt wolves who do this," he decided aloud, drawing from the hotness of her gaze. "and we kill them."