Bearclaw Valley Galant

her face shifts almost comically from confusion to concern. a song for the bear. Evien, she says in low, haunted tones. had he forgotten so soon? calling the bear to them would bring only more bloodshed; hadn't he seen her, close to death, fevered and putrid and unable to keep down her meal?

Avicus sits down, then rests upon her belly, forepaws outstretched. she slowly grinds her teeth together, forehead furrowed. she is clearly agitated, little tunes and the prospect of fishing forgotten.

and her ears swivel, slowly, constantly, searching for the threat. 

it is only a matter of time. if Ashlar can carry the power of wind in his voice, then surely he will summon the bear, and they both will perish—she from defending him, and he from sheer incompetence. the boy can't even catch a squirrel; how is he meant to fight a mountainous beast?