Bearclaw Valley interim

he chuckled, reaching down to swipe his torn jaw in the clear surface. it would be another scar, but merrick already bore the tattering of a warring wolf twice his age. it affected his vanity little, and so it was with pride he looked up. when evien made his return, it would be beneath the gentled eye of the dark serpent.
perhaps even affection stirred there, though he did not understand its place or its meaning. friendship? merrick knew not such things. only fear, and the rapturous attentions of his rook.