Silvertip Mountain in her arms a lamb

she was going. merrick smiled, dipped his head in a little gesture of farewell. "thank you. be safe."
with any luck, the girl would wander into an impending blizzard and be lost to the shifting drifts, far from the sprawl of moonspear and its murderous queen.
watching her depart for an interminable moment, merrick turned back to the cave, back to the cold reek of blood and bear-grease. fascinated, touched; he settled against the stiffening arm of the dead bruin and let the remainder of the day slip past in whispers.