Bearclaw Valley triple six, five, forked tongue

Tagging @Karst! Though anyone is welcome!

While his brother busied himself with his new habit of wandering and fraternising with the locals, even coming up with a new name for himself, Astyanax seemed to have stalled in his development. If he had any ambitions, they were only his to know, locked in a mind that had a marked difficulty with words. He preferred physicality, and had taken a liking to displaying acts of dominance and aggression on inanimate objects.

An innocent sapling was the subject of his attention this day, and the boy let out soft growls and grunts as he pulled at one of the spindly branches with his teeth. It leaned so far over that it was almost parallel to the ground as Astyanax backed up slowly, every so often giving it a tug.

The roots strained underground, twisting and snapping with every jerk, though the branch within his teeth was slowly beginning to wear away — which was going to break first was the question.

The boy was itching to go out again and see what was beyond the valley, but he knew that would only put him at further risk somehow. Not wanting to anger the adults for the time being, Karst entertained himself near the rendezvous for a few hours; he was imagining what life would be like if he could wander anywhere he wanted with Illidan at his side, or his brother, or both.

He thought of the man in silver robes outside of the forest, and soon enough Karst was immersed in this game of make-believe. He ran circles around the rendezvous and would stop to dive at the dirt, stomp across grass, or mime actions that made sense in his own head and nowhere else; kid stuff, naturally.

In his head he was a great adventurer alongside his brother, seeking sage advice from the stern man of the stones. The fantasy popped right out of his head when he finally noticed the sound of a struggle rising from some trees, and so Karst's imagination died and he went on high-alert, stalking closer and closer — anticipating a trap — and let out a biiiig sigh of relief when he saw it was his brother.

He called out: What doing?

As he adjusted his grip, his too big paws skittered forward in the dirt a little, his entire body pulled forward by the branch. It was a relentless game of tug-of-war, with neither Astyanax nor the sapling wanting to give in easily. White-tipped tail flicking behind him in growing frustration, the boy gave it another harsher tug, freezing up as he felt something give.

An ear flicked as he heard his brother appear suddenly, calling out a question, but he did not get a chance to even turn to acknowledge the other boy. THWAP. Like a taut wire pulled to its limit, the branch flicked out from between his teeth, taking a single canine with it as it did so. It flew up into the air, also whipping Astyanax across his lip and muzzle.

With a loud yipe, he stumbled back, falling onto his hindquarters in both surprise and pain while the sapling snapped back to its original position. In answer to Karst's question, it was obvious now that Astyanax had no clue as to what he was doing.

The single player game ended as abruptly as a word; as he had called out his brother lost his hold on the branch, after which he watched as the arc of its springing form ripped from Astyanax' mouth. He could only wince. He did not see the tooth fly free and was busy scampering closer to check over his bigger brother with rough probes of his snout.

Why do that? He asked tonelessly, wanting to thwack his brother with the palm of his paw for a moment, then sank back to give Astyanax some space. Dummy, look, you leakin'. He snorts and indicates with a pointed stare that something is drooling from Astyanax' face, all red and sticky like pine sap—disgusting.