Bearclaw Valley rolling in and caught again

it was to the fading reek of rot that merrick returned to grieve and to mope; he frowned at it, lowering one shoulder and then another to wallow in the last of caiaphas' scent.
astara had made no secret of how much she disliked the crone, but the boy would not let the old woman fade unnoticed. her legacy, then, would also be the valley, and hang it if the nightshade did not agree.
keeping away from his lover, for he did not wish to see the burn of jealousy in her haunting eyes, not now so soon after his would-be mother had passed, merrick wandered  to the western gate and began to hike his leg over various foliage.