Bearclaw Valley first victim

falk lets out a muffled squeak, caught beneath jackdaw’s weight, limbs flailing in protest. the warmth of his brother smothers him, pinning him down in a way that ignites something primal—instinct, rebellion, a demand for freedom.
with a determined grunt, he squirms violently, jaws parting to latch onto whatever he can reach—an ear, a cheek, soft baby fur slick with warmth. his tiny paws press against jackdaw’s belly, pushing, kicking, fighting with all the strength his little body can muster.
his growl is more of a wheeze, air squeezed from his lungs under his brother’s weight.