Wapun Meadow boorish

he was in control here. he was in control because he had declared himself so, the newcomer curling in upon himself with a tremble racing through addled flesh. yes yes yes yes yes this was what the ursine spirit had wrought for him. merrick cocked his head, took another step, fixed the one flamelit latern to the two pools of shimmering ocean. "what am i doing, fields?"
a tease. drag him out drive him out thrust a stake somewhere into his body. the sight of red swam before his eyes. the scarlet drying upon fields' chin. "you're hurt," his voice dropped by now to a hoarse whisper, reminding the other that yes, his intent was sharp and pointed, and yes, he burned for the slow drip of wound.
ragged ears slipped back against his skull; merrick traced his own lips with pink tongue and grinned into fields' face, feasting upon the twist of tense musculature, the accusation.