Bearclaw Valley take me to the jungle

Lucas empathized with his brother when Wyatt began throwing a tantrum about leaving, but chose to stay well out of it. He was excited about going somewhere new, but didn't want to come between Laurel and Wyatt in any way by siding with one or the other. It was their ordeal, and he wasn't keen on conflict anyway. He would rather avoid it. Instead, he went through a small pile of furs at the back of the den, searching for a particular one to bring with him as a reminder of home. Sentimental fool, this one.

He found the squirrel pelt that Mona had brought by when she visited them and tugged it out from under several rabbit hides and a badger's tattered back fur. It still had the fluffy tail attached, and that was why he chose it. Cramming it into his mouth and fighting the brief urge to gag against the wispy hairs, the cherub swung around, portly gut swaying, and evacuated the den. He cast his brother a sympathetic look, flinched away from the heated glare Wyatt pinned him with—though it was more of a scowl for the world at large than one aimed at him—and waddled over to where Laurel was waiting for them with his prize in tow.