Bearclaw Valley distant stars come in black or red.

A rush of hot, rancid breath drowned Aventus' next churning cry, which was amplified when Merrick's teeth tensed against his tiny body. Controlled, but just barely. Red alarm bells were ringing inside his head, screaming danger! danger! and he was powerless to do anything but whimper about it.

Then he was tossed aside, a ragdoll crumpling to the dew-laden ground as Merrick and Astara faced off and a crowd gathered. Fortunate that newborns were so pliable. Aventus would suffer no lasting physical damage if his life wasn't snuffed out then and there by his sire. Until then, cold seeped from the ground into his tiny, still-damp body. At least he was on solid ground.

The instinctual sirens in his brain still rang, but the crying stopped.