Bearclaw Valley [m] Increasingly common practise of grill parties and consensual cannibalism

Arielle wasn’t the only one. Aventus hadn’t known what to do that day either. He could have tried to be more bold. If he had, maybe they would have remained in that hollow a while longer, but then they may have been too late to discover the Saints. Tuur may have moved on from the canyon by then. All things happened for a reason.

You should have told me, he said, but his voice suggested amusement rather than regret. I nearly dared you to kiss me. It seemed so juvenile now, both the intended dare and his hesitation about it. What was a little kiss? They were connected on another level now. For the first time since his mother’s death and Merrick’s transformation into a fanatic, Aventus felt somewhat at peace.

No one had prepared him to feel this way about someone else. He thought of his parents, their ardent savagery and elegant butchery. My family name is Melonii but father always called us Bearclaw, after this place, he said, trying to ignore the heat that began to climb his neck into his cheeks. His stomach tumbled with nerves. I… Um… Think it would sound good on you. Butterflies exploded in his gut.

He looked away, his face radiating his embarrassment. Someday. When... If you wanted.