Bearclaw Valley in spite of all the wherewithal

had merrick known he was to be crushed bodily from his mother into a charnel house, there was a high chance he would have opted for literally anything else.
as it were, this was exactly how things panned out: the chamber that had housed merrick and his unfortunate siblings began to contract inward, a veritable indiana jones booby trap. the old heave-ho; the child had no way of knowing his emergence into the world had been marked by some extreme form of torment. he tumbled onto velveteen and bone; the boy writhed within the remains of his caul, which had ripped upon his poignant entry into the whelping den.
it was as if a coywolf had made weird love to a sack of jellybeans; merrick's rotund frame thrummed helplessly as he struggled, and soon his tiny jaws parted with a shrieking mewl of hunger and confusion. his wet down was growing uncomfortably cool as the dampening began to dry; instinctively the boy began to seek his mother, blunt blind head bobbing and dipping with exhaustion.