Bearclaw Valley why does tragedy exist?

merrick found himself inspected, turned over and over in the eyes of the youth before politeness made its way forward. but he had not been offended by the staring. he knew what his looks could make another person feel.
pity, perhaps.
feigning an expression of goodwill, the young madman lifted his chin. "well," he mused aloud, glancing in the direction where the elk made their winter grazing, "they're my herds."
awakened, roused; the bear spirit whispered of several things, but only in words for merrick.