Bearclaw Valley why does tragedy exist?

not missing the message cupped beneath the other's words, and impressed to have it coded to him so, merrick nods graciously. "yes. i was born here. made the only sense to come back to it, make it mine." he gazed around the spiraling sights of the high stone walls, the vast expanse of snows that made the same work of wood and flatland alike.
but all his. all for the nightshade also.
"i imagine you live close, then,"  merrick mused lightly, seizing upon the pack-scent wreathing the green-eyed boy, the mention of this place now being claimed. 
in truth, he knew. had he not been there in his youth? this was a member of easthollow, a recent youngster. born after the fall of bearclaw, merrick suspected, giddy in his superiority, in the game of it.