Bearclaw Valley glossy teeth

Despite whatever cries, pleads, or screams ripped from his throat, the madwoman had torn Abel away from his home. The longer they walked, the quieter he became. Not from lack of fear or an acceptance of fate. He was more exhausted than he’d ever been in his entire life. He so desperately wanted to collapse and drift into a deep sleep. But he had to keep moving. He had no choice. 
The woman brought him to valley that reeked of her own scent and blood. Abel forced his eyes wide open as the smell became stronger. The fur on his nape shot up as he scanned the terrifying faces that surrounded him. He froze when his eyes laid upon him. The one eyed man. His mother’s killer. A pathetic whimper forced its way from his throat as he was shoved closer.
But the worst of his fears dissipated, if only for a moment, when he saw a familiar ruddy pelt. Indra! The fear returned when he realized how close she was to the man. Abel was then rooted in place, even though he wished to run to his sister’s side.