Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

merrick was unsure if he had ever been called 'cute' before. the myriad toothmarks in his face had by now removed any sense of the word from the lexicon of anyone close.
but not this donovan, it seemed, rogue tiger-man with a name leapt from the cover of a romance novel. but merrick only read his companion, finding comfort in the open nature of the man's purring demeanour.
an alliance. a woodland that bled. the images twined and galloped together, dilating the last pupil left to the bearwolf. he traced cyclops'-gaze across the feral stare, the visible musculature beneath the dazzle of odd markings, even to the way donovan's lips set against his teeth.
"it is a place of teeth," merrick answered at last, a bit hoarsely for the sudden plunge of lust in his throat. and now he pressed on, focused on their path once more. "every wolf in ursus is not bound here. they choose to stay of their own accord. anyone who comes to us is met with wounds if he is not here to submit to the will of the bear. and i do not seek control over what is done outside the lands."
his eyes, resting upon the taller companion again. "ursus is a place to earn scars."