Moonspear the world is a place where the villains wear a smile on their face

He still wasn't used to company -- not the kindly kind, anyway -- and his attention turned the moment he heard the sound of clicking claws up the mountainside. In the confidence of his privacy, he stiffened for a moment, and inwardly, he sought to suppress the shivered rush that set him on the defensive, and willed him to swing round with hackles flared. By the time the boy stepped into a full range of sight, Merrit was waiting, stately and composed -- his fur lying flat, and his heart rate just a touch quicker than its usual pace. His face beheld the sea, but his gaze shifted with a backward glance to follow the boy's approach.

There was great beauty in the sea, Merrit remembered from when he had travelled there himself, yet he could no longer separate the waters from his enemies. He procured a smile for the boy, small though it was, keen to keep his thoughts concealed and wholly his own. "Mmm, I suppose one might say so," and he appraised the child with a thoughtful look. He was dark, unblemished, and Merrit assumed, on age and appearance alone, that this must be one of Hydra's kin. "Have you ventured there before?"