Bearclaw Valley what you need is a sweet caress

the three-beat staccato of footfalls rustled behind her. sobeille considered bolting — but she was not a fast runner, and ameline knew this terrain better. sobeille was outmanned.

she spun back around, teeth bared save for her missing canine. if she was to fight for her survival, she supposed it would be life’s bitterest irony that it would happen upon the threshold of bear-worshippers.


you gonna kill me too, ‘mother’? sobeille challenged, the fire in her gaze disguising the brief flare of uncertainty she felt. ameline was more muscular, and arguably more seasoned. sobeille’s best chance was to run.