Blackwater Islands circus music made by organs and bones

Isangrim was two months old now, and he was steadily growing from chubby potato to something resembling a wolf, beady eyes sharp in his face as his muzzle lengthened and his paws and ears grew overlarge.

He especially found that he liked the little treasures brought to him by the friend of Mother. They entertained him, made him..pleased. Concocting worlds in his head with the beetles and the bones. He really liked the bones. They were fun to slip between his teeth, feel them crack and splinter along sea worn fractures that he couldn’t spot with his naked eye, but could find with his teeth.

Another crack echoed from the bone clumsily held between his paws, and he let out a pleased sound to hear it.

Chew chew chew chew.. He mumbled to himself, enjoying the repetition for a moment, before he went back to chewing, searching for the brittle cracks.

the boy watched his brother, as was typical of him to do.  the resounding cracks had drawn his attention, but the grinding sound of isangrim's gnashing fangs had turned his stomach.  he quelled it anyway, emerging from the shadows and tilting his head towards his sibling.