Bearclaw Valley some kind of plastic i could wrap around you

Wordless. She is wordless. She reminds him of himself from just a few months ago. The thought tugs at something painful inside of him until he snuffs it out. Easy as killing a fly.
She smells of life, of death, of the Valley, but most of all, of Merrick. He appraises her with shuttered eyes. He did not know who really masterminded Ursus (other than the bears of course) and he thinks that he wouldn't be surprised at all if she was the one that was weaving the web after all.
I'm Fields, he says. He doesn't take his eyes off of her. He feels as if he is dealing with a loaded gun or an angry bull, which were fundamentally the same thing.