Fox's Glade Second Decisions

it was the screaming that drew merrick.
even though the crone had passed onto into a world where the boy could not follow, he thought of her still. by turns the pain began to ease and ebb, until at last merrick could think of their way forward.
specters had joined he and the nightshade. the inner whisper of the bear suggested they might be collected, a vessel of flesh in which the ursine could live again.
he drifted out of the valley; merrick sought nothing in particular as he glided across newfallen snows and entered the old reek of the glade.
more pungent now with the musk of breeding foxes. merrick wandered, pausing as the shrieking echoed in the cold air.
reminded very much of his flayings, suddenly seized by memories of that time, merrick hurried toward the sound, elated and breathless.
he crouched in the brush to watch the scene play itself: he was mesmerized by the passion of the huge dark wolf, but ultimately disappointed that no blood arced against the white drifts.
a glimpse of mournful pale  eyes, and he knew then that this was the man he had spent time with in the springtime, long before the deaths had begun. merrick hesitated only a moment before vibrating out from behind a juniper bush.
"ulysses," the boy called gently, unsure of how the man would regard him. at their last meet, merrick had been whole; now he stood older and scarred and with only one eye gracing the planes of his face,  eartip lopped away, wasted down to hard sinew and ribcage.