Bearclaw Valley till so many decades had passed

time ticked by, and only its passing would tell if merrick decided he wanted to know her also, this inquisitive munchkin who bore half his blood. she had startled him with the closing of one eye; he stared again at the child who wore the vivid autumn fur of indra and, at last, thumped his tail to invite her closer.
you will never be mine. the twisted hiss would have tumbled out of his mouth, but the boy clamped his jaws shut and cupped his tattered ears toward the pup. "stop staring unless you wanna fight," merrick mumbled instead. ha ha. a joke. maybe.