Fox's Glade To the forest again

innately mistrustful, merrick was nevertheless soothed by the general demeanour of the stranger. sniffing the air in the man's direction, the boy drew in the scents; bearclaw was not among them. this made the wolf a potential bad guy, but merrick was willing to weigh the odds. he wasn't a chickenshit, after all.
"hullo," he mumbled, tail moving in a wary wave. slowly he approached, gingerly, and stayed out of reach of an unexpected snap from the rogue. "i'm merrick." he did not draw his gaze from the stranger, more than a bit awed by the battleworn ferocity of the man called sorin.