Bearclaw Valley a tale of the ragged mountains

she's exhausted. by the time Astara grasps her scruff, Avicus is ready to give up the fight—at least for today. her shoulders drop and her fur settles. the rumble in her throat fades away. silence, then, the only sounds the murmur of bugs and birds and the girl's pants.

once released, she flops back onto her haunches and tosses her chin aloft, giving her mother a dubious stare. the size difference is significant, sure, but even when she grows, how, how will she be able to hold her own?

another afternoon will bring a newfound hunger for sparring. but she is sated, shattered, irritation sky-high and confidence at its nadir. she swipes her tongue along her jowls, tasting blood. she hadn't realized she'd bitten her lower lip sometime within that fight, but she feels the sting now.