Bearclaw Valley Friends, or Foes?

arriving in this post, attacking next round to keep it fair<3

wounded as astara may be, the scent of her son threaded out from the redpath, and the blackbird followed.

soon his scent was joined by others; a braid of footprints marked where a small congregation had gathered just beyond the stonethroated borders of her home.

first the blackbird saw Aventus’s back to her, then her packmates — Skoll, Toad, Evien — a chill raked her spine as she saw Nyra, followed by a full flush of contempt.

and yet nothing — nothing at all — measured to the red imperative that burgeoned in astara’s eyes as she saw Nyra seize her son. her jealousy, her insecurity, her dislike for Nyra all seemed mild in the face of that forbidding and immutable instinct — which now bade the raven to protect and kill at any cost;

merrick came to her vision in a blur of dark smoke and russet. astara broke into an open run, hobbled by the injuries given to her at Easthollow.

no matter her slow progress, one thing was certain — the moment she came within the woman that dared strike her child was the moment Nyra’s life was forfeit.