Bearclaw Valley your dark splendor

at any other moment, merrick might have appreciated the challenge of the young healer. his skills were useful in ways the young coywolf could not fathom, and evien had grown into himself impressively. 
that being said, his clear messages were thrown aside, ground underfoot, as the doctor claimed a greater role in merrick's life than he was allotted. singular boil of orange glint; merrick cocked his head as a black-silk smirk unfurled across his lips. anger, yes; the boy was infuriated, but the constant questioning of his place at the helm of ursus championed a greater need to show all of them
who
he
was
"evien, if you do not trust me, then get out." dead silence now. the healer had ensconsced himself into the heart of bearclaw. he had merrick's admiration and respect, the adoration of fields, the awestruck attention of ico. he too could be a god.
but there was only one king in the valley, and it was not evien.
a challenge. merrick waited.