Bearclaw Valley snake oil

A close up shot of Evien fills the whole screen. He can't bring himself to meet his eyes, and instead focuses on the deadness of his ear. At least, he reasons, the ear itself is still there.
The air is cold where the doctor had swabbed his skin clean. He knows he's being foolish and selfish and childish, but its so easy to slip into a world where you were against everyone and everyone was against you. That was all he'd known.
He's tired. Tired of squeezing in sleep that wasn't even sleep, tired of waking up after a fight and being too sore to move, tired of looking into a foggy bathroom mirror and wondering to himself where that bruise had come from. How that scar had been made. You already know all the answers, Taylor.
I don't know how Ursus'd be like without you, his smile is drenched in cynicism. Probably we'd all be dying from stepping on a dirty thorn. He folds and tucks the distress into some imaginary alligator skin suitcase, shoves it deep into a black corner of a closet.