Bearclaw Valley my heart is in economy due to this autonomy

mayb forward dated a day or so

the little blackbird returned, her expedition to the south successful. between her jaws she held relmyna's parting gift to her daughter -- the last powerful artifact of their witch-blood, of their heritage. through this conduit, astara would finally be given voice by the whispering void.

she intended first to set up an altar fashioned as her mother had done so in blackfeather, so long ago. bearclaw was a valley rife with stones -- one would make a fine courtyard for her designs.

by a den (not knowing this den was where merrick had first drew breath in this wretched world) astara paused; here, the resonant energy of her dam's pelvis seemed strongest -- as if beckoning her that this was where her soul wished to reside forever. astara glanced around; this area was secluded, obscured by the heavy arms of inundated pine boles. there was just enough of a clearing here before sharp edges of stone arose like a toothy mantle.

it was here astara placed the jutting pelvic arch, her indigo eyes darting from shadow to shadow. there was much to be done: the pinestraw would need to be pulled clear of the stony table, and the fallen twigs removed -- but this would serve as a fine place for mother dearest.

he roved his natal land. the bear had a great deal to say, and merrick was eager to be alone, to listen. but he too pined for astara, as he did every moment they were parted. knowing he could hear the sussuration in his soul, even as he sought to pick up her trail, the boy did both. 
his pace was meandering, of course, but directed always inexorably toward the nightshade.
he found her in a place that pulsed once,
twice
in some primal set of buried memories, but astara stole all his addled attention at once as he watched her choose the pedestal.
pelvicbones.
he stepped to her side, brushing against sable pelt; curiosity writhed in his energy, but he was soft, silent, still.

joined by the sable presence of her amor, astara lifted her gaze. a welt of pride burned in her indigo eyes -- for here she had erected a pedestal for merrick and his savage beargod -- so he may be the mouthpiece of his religion, and draw from the bones whatever power he needed.

she drew her muzzle along his cheek, neck, flank -- and then walked past. she would let him examine the crude altar as he pleased -- for she had much more work to do.

she gathered stones in her jaws as merrick lingered at the rough pulpit. these stones she would place in concentric rings around the bone, sorted from smallest to large.

merrick stood fast, not wanting to disturb astara at her reverent work. he saw the grace with which it was handled, how carefully each ornamentation was selected. the bear spirit roused, growled to the boy that  he might see fir to appreciate his priestess more often.
priestess.
oracle.
a smile sidled onto his lips. "he says you are very important," the boy uttered. astara knew the language of his body, but she was not privy to the raspy inner voice. therefore, he must share it. witness.

around them astara composed the dial - it was crude, but in time the rocks would give shape over suggestion -- in time, the altar would be ringed in totality, much like the simmering eye of a corona during moon's eclipse.

merrick's purling voice gave astara pause: she looked upon him and saw approval in that glimmering gaze. in that moment a whisper within urged her to embrace him -- and she did, pulling towards him at a rough prowl with a smirk lingering upon her lips.

he met her breathlessly, arched against her own dark body. merrick murmured out a croon of want into the silken fur of astara's shoulder. his nightshade, crow, blackbird, raven — glimmering sable bird of prey come to encircle him again.
the boy was enraptured; he snaked his muzzle close to lick her mouth with a backward taper of his ears.

against his fur astara buried her muzzle, breathing deep -- of him, of their forest, their home and shared life. she would not let him go -- not now, not ever.

a tongue of black jealousy flared in her heart; she pulled him close -- mine. his nose and tongue traced along her jawline, her head canted and tender throat exposed. yours.

four hundy 4 u <3

merrick pressed his lips against the offered pulse of her blood and wondered suddenly despite himself if the nightshade would ever want children.
the thought sickened him; he shut his eyes and pushed his body more firmly against hers, seeking warmth and the distraction of her warm yielding to him.
had indra and tadec not bedded one another so worthlessly, he would not be here. had his mother not abandoned him to the whims of a pack he did not trust —
a low keening void of hunger suddenly opened within merrick, a chasm of all the wants he had ignored since claiming bearclaw.
and he was afraid.
and he was elated.

congrats!!!

astara had yet to think of offspring, though she thought often of merrick and his desires. would he grow bored of her, or weary of her constant silence? would he wish for a companion to converse with, one that could carry his hopes and thoughts and fears as well as his words? she had never resented her inability to speak until now -- and now, that flaw seemed but a gaping hole, and she teetering ever close to it.

he pressed against her. mine, astara growled to herself, that singular word that possessed all her thoughts more greedily than merrick. no one could have him, if she could not have him.

astara delved into his fur, rubbing her head along his slab-sided rib cage. she would do whatever she had to, to keep merrick by her side forevermore.

as always, astara turned all thoughts to herself and became the center of his existence. merrick gave himself over wholly to her, blood thrumming with a hunger only she had ever engendered, one only she could ever satiate. it came upon the edge of murderous lust, merrick had found, fixing in his mind the twisted faces of those he had maimed in his life.
a throb, low and insistent, the boy swallowed through dry throat and coursed teeth through the fur along astara's hip, body breathless with the memory vibrant in his mind and his body aching to meld sensation to vision.

selfish as always, astara pulled into his embrace. merrick, merrick, merrick -- what ever would she do if he disappointed her?

she turned as his teeth brushed her hips, roughly grabbing the thick of his scruff in a dragging jostle. come, she said without speaking -- the voidlike purple of her gaze meeting his hellfire eye. come with me.

their scents were laid all over this temple, in every place they touched. astara wished to express a more permanent marking -- one that would tell any wolf within the vicinity that they were here in more than simple alliance: they were here, coupled.

she drew her paws through the snow and sent another nip merrick's way, making for the centre dial -- waiting for her bear to consume her.