Bearclaw Valley rum. bring a bottle of it.

blood, and in the crush of it, the witch. 
crimson poured from eyes and ears and nose and merrick came awake with a twitching gasp to a silent, starless night.
mouth pooled with saliva, and he knew no wretch save for that of a wolf could quell him now.
easthollow and their teeth — they would ignore him and steal from him? 
overhead, a crack of thunderhead, and then the sweeping rain. he stood quiet in the deluge, single eye glinting toward the denmouth where his children lay, and then he was off, trotting pointedly through ursus toward silverstone.

Merrick did not go alone.

Aventus was drawn awake first by the sky's crackle, then the pounding of rain, more of a whisper than the booming voice of the storm. He extricated himself with care from a tangle of limbs, leaving Astara and Avicus asleep as he poked his head curiously into the rain. He was quick enough to spot the one-eyed Bruin-witch leaving.

It wasn't in Aventus' nature to oppose the will of Ursus' dragon, lest Merrick's terrible wrath be turned upon him. Thus far, no such thing had happened to support his fear, but the blood in his veins sang of his father's fearsome nature. It was a part of him. Ordinarily, he wouldn't set a single toe out of line where his sire was concerned. But the gusting wind and the grumbling clouds made small sounds become silent, and the darkness of it all emboldened him. He was small. He was black. He wouldn't be seen or heard.

So Merrick trotted out into the storm, and Aventus came scrambling defiantly after him, believing he was as silent as a mouse and invisible in the dark, even if he wasn't.

so focused was merrick in his wrathful step that he did not immediately hear the boy. and so for a long while aventus kept his cloak of invisibility. shrouded by the rain, the dark witch paused, and in a clap of grey clouds overhead, lightning flashed. a glance back along the sharp jut of his own shoulder revealed the small body that followed.
son of his mate, brother to the red girl.
for a long moment merrick was still, and his mind played a quick image of himself leading the boy over the borders, and leaving him there. no blood. no pain. as merciful as a brute could make it.
he chased the cobwebs of the idea away. "want to go hunting?" 
merrick passed tongue across his jaws, rain running in droplets along his nape as he lowered his head to nudge the child with something akin to encouragement. in the next moment, he cut away from the stone walls that led to easthollow, choosing a path that would carry them out of the rain and into the tangled forest.

Maybe this wasn't the best idea he'd ever had. Rainwater sluiced through his downy coat and reached through his flesh to his very bones, and every gust of wind cut right through to his marrow. It wasn't long before Aventus began to shiver, but from his Melonii heritage he had inherited a great deal of conviction. He'd committed to sneaking after his one-eyed sire, to learn where it was the dragon went when he was away, and he was determined to see it through.

Alas, Merrick knew he was there. Aventus knew it, too, when the Bruin-witch grew still. He felt the absurd hook of panic in his midriff and began to creep backward, one slow step at a time, as if he thought he could disappear into the storm and return home without being caught, but Merrick dashed all hope of that when he addressed his son.

He stoppered his breath in his lungs, entertained the notion that if he didn't move or make a sound, he would truly be invisible. For a child in a normal family with normal, playful parents, that would've made sense. Aventus and his living situation were far from normal, and it made for a cunning but unimaginative boy who knew the only way to be invisible was to disappear into the shadows. He'd thought he could do it, but Merrick was all-knowing. Merrick hadn't voiced a punishment, only a question with a nudge that Aventus shied instinctively away from.

Do you want to go hunting? Aventus didn't know how to hunt, but it was better than being left in the rain alone now that he'd been discovered. It was better than being reprimanded, too. He scurried after his sire when Merrick changed directions and slowly parted his jaws to utter a word, the very first word anyone had likely heard him say, for he only practiced in solitude: yes.

yes, and it was as good a first word as any. in its droplet sound was the roundness of merrick's favor, for the bearwolf cast the boy a thoughtful glance before drawing up. with aventus at his flank, he set off again. beneath the storm all scents were muted, but merrick found his milieu in such chaos — always.
strangely satisified by the child's aversion to him, as if his pronouncements had been fed with mother's milk, the madman lowered his muzzle to feather over the slick stones, the wet grass. he cut their path on a downward slope toward the riverbank, where several scents could be found churned into the mud.
a twitch of his dark ears. "pick one." the boy was too young to know the names for each, but all had blood, the beasts who had left the trace of their foot upon the soaked loam. a flicker of light across his staring one eye as clouds shifted above them, and then the first and second generations of ursus were returned to the hushed grey darkness.

They walked for some time in the rain, with Aventus trying all the while to conceal how cold he felt. Merrick was able to stride through the downpour unaffected, so why shouldn't he? Terrible fear gave way to something like admiration when the one-eyed beast invited him along. Like an equal, or at least like a valuable addition, not a troublesome gnat to squash. As Aventus hurried in his sire's wake, he lengthened his little strides, made them as alike Merrick's as he could.

Until they came to a halt at the muddy bank of a river. Aventus was so focused on his footsteps that he almost bumbled right into the Bruin-witch, only narrowly avoiding clipping his heels as he swaggered to the side. Pick one, came the command. Aventus never picked up a scent trail and followed it intentionally before, but the knowledge was ingrained in him, as it was all wolves. He sniffed the wet, seething ground eagerly, finding many winding trails but none that were truly distinct.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Aventus chose a scent that wound off to the left and began to waddle after it. Unbeknownst to him, it was the oldest scent trail available, but he dared not betray his uncertainty to his father with even a questioning glance.

merrick decided at once to spare the boy, having entertained a murderous insistence that had flared at the sight of the river. aventus began to track, and the coywolf followed at once. 
he knew what beast would be at the end of the trail. the age of the spoor was advanced in comparison to the others, and merrick was suddenly eager to know why the shadowkit had netted that once above all else.
the pass at confidence was successful. silently the bearwolf watched the steps of the berry, how aventus did not seem to need him in this quest..
summarily relieved, he lengthened his stride until he was ahead of of the darkwrought boy. so like her, merrick told himself, lowering scarred muzzle in the wet to indicate a track along the trail the child had chosen.

Aventus played the part well enough of a tracker, but lacked both the attention span and the experience to keep the trail. Almost as soon as he picked it out, he lost it. The wet, rotting scent of the mud masked the underlying hints of animal and, if one investigated further, disease. Maybe there was a reason he was drawn to this old scent after all, but it hardly mattered once he lost track of it.

He delved ahead anyway, noseblind but determined, until Merrick overtook him and pointed out an imprint in the earth. Silent yet graceless, Aventus fumbled his way through the mud until he was able to get a good look at the print. The cloven hoof drawn in the wet earth meant nothing to him, which meant he didn't feel guilty when he stepped on it and continued on.

At least he'd managed to catch another faint wisp of scent. He lost it again just as quickly, but Merrick was there. Merrick would provide. The trail followed the river for a time before veering back into the tree. At its end: a half-eaten, decomposing mule deer that had been there for over a week, having died suddenly of hemorrhagic disease.

merrick, a skilled murderer, untried leader, and now tied somehow to this trailing little thing. but aventus did not disappoint him, and they walked along the river, the madman tempering his step as not to leave the boy behind. a rainbow of scent, and at its bloodied end, a rotting corpse, bloated with some unknown sickness.
"very good," he growled, stopping behind aventus' watchful form. its smallness reminded him again of how easily the damnable little things could be killed, but it went against the new interest for the pair merrick was now cultivating.
"smell," and he stepped around the minuscule body, pressed his snout closer to the body. "we do not eat anything that smells like this."

Merrick's growled approval was as startling as it was unexpected, causing the hairs to ripple down Aventus' back. A mixture of pride and reverence boiled in his little belly. This was a bounty and the pack would partake. Except Merrick was telling him not to eat this deer, and Aventus... Well, poor Aventus couldn't be faulted for having a clumsy grasp on language at best.

So even though the dragon told him explicitly that they didn't eat anything like this, he didn't quite get it. Aventus couldn't help parting his jaws and seizing a bit of the deer's hide in his mouth. Planting his paws, he attempted to tear it free, no doubt to his sire's great frustration.

aventus did not listen, and a terrible wrath clouded his impatient sire's voice. "no," merrick repeated, and lunged to pin the boy to the wet earth beneath the sinewy grip of a forepaw. "you have your entire life to die. not this way."
briefly pressing aventus down a little more firmly than was necessary, intent upon panic to reinforce the lesson, the witch relented and turned away from the carcass. "we'll find something better," merrick smirked sing-song, as if nothing had gone on only moments before.

Merrick’s voice was a thunderclap, and the heavy paw descending upon Aventus was the storm’s hammer. He was pressed into the wet earth and for a second or two, thought his lungs would burst under his sire’s pressure. The man’s voice was a snarl in his son’s ears, amplified by fear.

But Merrick didn’t snuff him out. He let him up, moving away from dead deer and son alike with a cheerful remark. Aventus remained prone for several heartbeats, silently gulping breath and committing the lesson to memory. Then he rose and tailed after his father with his head and tail lowered.

Good to fade here, or can keep going if you prefer!