Bearclaw Valley goodness is eternally difficult

enthralled, merrick watched with a near-hungry expression as the child inched toward him. the little round face was downturned; the bearwolf saw a flicker of legged movement before he made a sound low in his throat. so this was the one he had grabbed that night. a better individual might have been horrified at most, in the very least regretful, but merrick's jaws still tasted of blood no matter how much water he had gulped.
he ran his tongue across the ridges of his teeth, leaned closer.
"no hard feelings."
it felt foolish to speak aloud to the trundling little beast, but if only for her, merrick would attempt.