Bearclaw Valley our love, it's broken

@Avicus had been there the day earp had been killed; how many violent episodes had her daughter witnessed now? astara was desensitized to it at large, but the little droplets of blood from her daughter's paws had not escaped the matriarch's notice.

guarding her favored leg and sore neck, astara searched for avicus outside the rendezvous.

she lays absently picking at an old bone, taking out her uncertainty and frustrations out on the weathered ivory. gnawing releases her mind from worry; her slobber dribbles down the length of it, pooling around the base that's nestled between her forepaws. one crack and she'll get to the marrow—

a shadow, suddenly. mother. she stands quickly with a low whine, bone all but forgotten, and trots over to the woman. Avicus rears slightly, pressing her muzzle against the underside of Astara's cheek.

she's growing larger by the day, and thus the reach grows shorter. soon she will stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her murderous parents.

astara stilled as she spotted avicus with her jaws wrapped around a bone. beneath her was a pool of slick liquid and bone shaving -- her daughter, hard at work against one of the last things a body gave before it was forgotten forever.

when she reached to astara's cheeks, astara was astounded by how much avicus had grown -- and in so little time. in truth, it had not been short at all -- puppies grew in spurts, and avicus was approaching one of the final sprints of her younghood. still the mother in her remembered cradling newborn avicus, no bigger than a doe's heart.

she transplanted an affectionate lick along the flame-orange bridge of her daughter's muzzle before she looked from bone to avicus. did she wish to wrestle or spar, or was something else on the agenda today?

she sniffs and wags her tail as Astara licks her nose, clearly enjoying the caress. when her dam fixes her with a questioning stare, Avicus pauses. she and her mother have engaged in various spars—when Astara wasn't watching over her tussles with Aventus—and it might be a good day to do so again.

two memories blend together in her mind: Merrick's tale of Indra's murder (and why), and the feeling of Earp's lifeblood pulsing out against her tongue.

her father would have had to do that to his own mother. she stares at Astara's throat.

could she do it?

no. . .no. once dead, her mother will remain dead. and she likes her mother very much alive. a life without the dark woman seems impossible to imagine. 

Avicus rears up, a sudden movement, and tries to hook her foreleg around Astara's shoulders. futile, in terms of taking her down, but she is only really playing.

omg murderbaby, mommy would be proud

in a show of play, her daughter climbed along astara's shoulders. one moment, it seemed avicus had been lost in thought -- the next, she was clamoring for her place in the world. astara wasn't privy to avicus' inner thoughts, but if she had known, perhaps her heart would have swelled in savage pride to see a killer so profoundly cut of her own self-same cloth.

astara had loved her mother, too.

she lowered her head and shoulders, aiming a glancing nip at the girl's exposed belly. nothing hard -- just enough to either elicit play, or encourage avicus to formulate a new line of defense.

oh right, right—no leaving her belly open. belly and throat, those were weak points. but beyond curling herself up into a ball, like one of those pill-bugs, how on earth is she to accomplish guarding both of them? she supposes she must be quick. quick enough that any strike will do minimal damage.

recoiling from the nips, Avicus twists away, bringing herself back down to the ground. two can play at this game; she flattens herself and snaps her teeth near the flesh that joins one of her mother's forelegs and her belly.

but carefully. . .carefully. she does not want to draw (much) blood.

i love her avatar!! SANTICUS

her daughter learned quickly. avicus retracted like a struck cobra, flattening herself up and rearing again.

this time her teeth nipped at astara's barrel just behind her elbow. the blackbird pivoted away, but not before those teeth found their mark.

she snapped empty air between them to dissuade a second advancement, but now her backside was turned to the girl.

rather than spin and try again, astara took off with sod flying behind her. a game of chase, if avicus pursued.

together, the two of them played in the most noblest of professions -- sharpening their instinct and honing in on their sparring. someday, avicus would be astara's equal -- and when that day came, astara would look upon her daughter with nothing but the fiercest of motherly pride.