Bearclaw Valley dancing with the devil

aha, there it was. the flaring of briars around evien's neat little appearance. a speck of dust on an already spotless wall. "oh?" merrick challenged, tongue lolling mockingly as singular eye watched the other scramble back to his feet, indignant, scruffed, disgruntled. 
"you're too pretty for ursus," merrick declared, though he ached for a challenge. it shone in every facet of his being
hit me —
" — too dolled up. too nice. too proper." head cocked; wan smile curled into a savage mass of teeth, a glasgow grin cutting across merrick's half-cocked features. "let me dirty you up a little. then —"
i know what you want
then maybe fields will fuck you
shh shh shh shh
"— maybe," an inhale, "maybe you will be ready to do some screaming."
three legs or no, limp or no; only holy men and elders garnered respect after their bodies could not be used for war. evien too could not be a berserker upon the front lines of the bear, but he knew other ways. merrick wished the knowledge, but wished more, in this moment, to see another gleam of the rage that lay banked beneath evien's surface.
"my mom was a bitch too. wanna know what i did?" 
he trembled, swerved in to snap at the brown boy's forepaws, not intending to harm but intending to show evien that jump meant jump.