Ravensblood Forest you're by my side, but are you still with me?

astara observed as merrick made for the mouse. it was a small meal, pathetic even -- but astara had shared what little she had with him, which in turn had delved her bond to the boy even deeper. day by day, astara's possessiveness -- bordering on obsession -- deepened; as if a slowly flooding pool fed by a nearby blackened estuary.

today, he was hers. tomorrow, she would make sure he remained hers. jealousy had since made an ugly bed in her needled heart; she did not yet question his fealty, but she did question the motives of others, and guarded her boy with pious jealousy befit an overzealous and belligerent hound. catching the direction merrick's gaze had been cast, a spark of that insecure covetousness contended with the good-will in her heart; she hated that bitch, and hoped old age or an erring fang would drop from the sky and end her presence in their lives. merrick was hers, and she loathed the admiring glances she often covertly observed, wishing to covet merrick's affections as hers alone.

swallowing the hideous bile that rose to her throat, astara offered a thin smile  -- and motioned merrick to the trail his attention lingered upon.