Bearclaw Valley if you are the dealer

a spy with many names. a man with many faces. merrick liked the notion; treasured it at once. for him, it was the binding tie that had led this joaquin to ursus. in silence he patrolled around the edges, humming gently before uttering, "joaquin" in a wondering voice. it was the only thing he had uttered until the pair returned to the beat-red path that led to the great stone at the entrance.
ursus.
the boy closed his eyes, breathed deeply the scent of the primordial forest wherein his pack lay. and the deities who walked with heavy footfalls like lumbering ghosts. the land of his birth. the place he had never departed in his soul.
"welcome to the valley of bears," merrick purred, grinning toward the ashdove man with that hovering glint in his remaining eye.