Bearclaw Valley why the little frenchman wears his hand in a sling

set for the afternoon of the 14th

she ought to have visited her brother by now. she ought to have stopped by. she knows where he is. she's seen the healer go back and forth from there; she's seen the well-worn trail left by her parents.

but she hasn't—and she doesn't want to.

as soon as she knew he breathed, Avicus's worry had faded away. he lives. he breathes. and still, still, the attention is wholly fixated on him, and she's been left behind.

jealousy burns in her belly and gnaws at her bones. her rage at the pale woman has faded with the days, but the irritation with her own continues on. fawning over Aventus. . .what's the deal, anyway? he's not dead. he's going to live. there's no need to mourn.

they'd forgotten her. that's all there was to it. they have forgotten clever, capable Avicus, and worship a little broken boy instead. she burns bright, but they are drawn to a shadow.

she stomps along a hunting trail in the far north of the valley, her ribs intact, her body whole.

now she is become the shadow, and her brother the funeral pyre.

"you haven't been by yet." mildly irritated, the tone rolled out of merrick's throat as he stepped from the clutch of ancient pinewood, smoothly adjusting his gait to match her own.
"he is your brother. that is important." he would never tolerate nunataq's weakness to be reborn in any blood of his. ursus had grown tightly knit through moving in unison toward threats, and offering the reward of trust to one another. he and the raven formed its heartcore, and inside that trove were avicus and aventus.
he let them move in silence now; if they continued or paused, merrick turned his single eye upon her with the silent inquiry: why?

her eyes roll sideways to track Merrick's approach, and then roll almost (almost) imperceptibly upward. whether her father will chasten her for the silent sass is up to him. for her part, she lets him walk alongside her, chewing on his words, his silent question.

not dead, she finally says, looking straight ahead, giving a slight shrug of her shoulders. that's just a fact. Aventus had survived the assault upon him. he is alive. she would visit his body if he had perished—perhaps more out of curiosity than anything else—but he is not dead.

his care is not within her paws. she has no responsibility to him. surely Merrick could understand that?

not dead.
"it would be too late for you to come if he did."
merrick had put away his natal family; he had done so at the edge of blood. but he rejected the notion of rearing his own brood in that manner, and so expected different responses from each of his children. in this moment, he commanded his own inward thoughts, shaping them into something avicus might better understand.
"he is alive because the bears wished him to live. ursus exists only by their will. if they chose your brother to live, then they choose you to be grateful for it." thankful the shadow still drew breath, not pitted against her sibling in some macabre struggle so early. merrick meant them both for many things, and dissent between them would not allow these events to occur.

he doesn't understand, and she doesn't know how to make him understand. it's not as if Avicus isn't grateful Aventus is alive—as if she'd wished for him to die—as if she wishes now for him to die. no, a world without her sleek dark brother would not be whole. grateful? yes—though closer to surprised, given how the woman had thrashed him around.

but had he died. . .if his life did not hang in the balance. . .the attention would not have been diverted. she would still be the princess of Ursus; she would not feel abandoned.

how can she explain that, though? how can Merrick understand the petulant envy of a little girl? even if she doesn't see it that way, that's all it is: jealousy. an affront to the charmed, if somewhat violent, life she's known. not hatred or wrath or. . . just. . . simply. . .  

it is bitterness. that is all. and her eyes burn as she turns away from her sire, feeling the sting of her perceived abandonment and his words all at once.

if he did not understand, merrick felt nothing upon the subject. his failings were legion; he did not fit into any earthly pattern of fatherhood known to a living creature. but there was a kinship with he and the blood-child, and merrick knew he must tread there.
he stood and trotted off, glancing back with heft of gaze that suggested heavily avicus should come along. and outward, outward merrick went, soon leaving the borders of ursus behind and bringing her out into the meadowed extension of their hunting lands. 
he began to run, and this time the bearwolf did not look back, his pace not yet building as he waited for avicus to catch onto their game. it went on for some time, until light lapsed and energies faded, and only then did the bearwolf return her to the place of sleep before melting into the night.