Bearclaw Valley ghost of a monster child

the one-eyed man howls, and Astara rises to answer it. Aventus has already gone; she sees his dark form retreating in the distance, headed to the summons. for her part, the girl dutifully follows her mother, leaving the whelping den uncharacteristically empty. they are older now, and the world is theirs to explore, to command.

Avicus sits alongside her silent mother in time to catch Merrick's words. her ears cup forward, trying to find meaning in them. but nothing else matters when his eye falls upon her, clearly beckoning.

she glances at Astara, a query in her gaze. it is then, when she stares back ahead, that she notices the bleeding wolf on the ground. dead—no. still moving, still breathing. curiosity more than anything else pulls her forward. the iron tang, so familiar (the brown, furry creature had been cloaked in that scent, as had the chickadee). but this is overwhelming.

her nostrils flare, mouth slightly parted. she stops a wolf-length away and looks at Merrick, then examines the prisoner, reptilian stare scanning his wounds.

not dead. not yet.