Bearclaw Valley Defiant to the end

Revui was not a talkative creature. He was a blunt instrument, used first by Moonspear, then by the Nightwalkers, now by Ursus — but he felt a difference here. A kinship he had not found elsewhere. He would defend this land and its people with as much fervor as was required, relishing in the violence with each battle won. In the moment, he wanted to skin this boy alive and the thought did not frighten him as it should have.

The boy spoke his question, and the group was silent. They waited on Merrick to make his decree, but Revui was impatient. He dislike all this talk. First there was Clay, all talk and no bite. Now this one, and what were they to do now? Talk it out? Chase him from the borderlands and await the next useless envoy? Revui bristled at the boy's question and drifted around them, angling his body as if to prepare an assault.

He did not wait for any order, shoving off the dirt and lunging at Valour as silence descended. Revui moved boldly forth, reaching with his teeth for the boy's scruff, his neck, his cheek, his face, whatever he gripped would be sliced and the momentum would be used to force him down in to the dirt again; here he would hold him down, grinding him in to the dirt and detritus of the valley.

Deep in his throat, a pleasurable hum rolled dully. None would disrespect Merrick, thought the Ostrega. No more visitors would traipse across their borders and be so foolishly dismissive of their claim here, and Revui would make sure of it.