Bearclaw Valley some kind of nature, some kind of soul

soon joined by venamis, astara noted his distance with a thin and menacing smile. it faded from her muzzle as merrick appeared, unusually jocular for one so plagued by his humors. astara felt jealousy twist like a knife as venamis was greeted first — and smoothly hid that ugly emotion with a bland smile of silence as merrick trotted over to her. 

their captive stirred, issuing a feeble growl. no doubt fever and infection would soon overcome him; astara had little more use to him other than as a gift for the creature of her affections — neatly, she sat in the snow, glaring at the male that was summoned forth.