Bearclaw Valley i can’t help being a gorgeous fiend

She wanted to laugh, and nearly did, her chest flutter and a gust of air squeaking out. But she could not forget the sight of Merrick, holding his newborn as if he was about to tear it asunder. Porcupine Cove, she said, her mind suddenly recalling the pale woman she met at Porcupine Ridge. Too many places named after the prickily little mammals. Huntin' and patrollin' mostly. 'm plannin' on venturing out to check up on the packs 'round 'ere.