Bearclaw Valley should we be dancing with all these madmen?

cameo!

his birthday had come and gone. merrick, granted the age of full adulthood, but a scarred boyking and father granted before. he licked at his lips, glanced toward the borders.
ursus was silent these days. merrick much preferred the chaos. toad had gone, and the bearwolf longed for the fierce company of the pretty boy.
he followed senses through the ferns, thickly interlaced branches embracing him next, kicked a stone idly upon the path, and then all once grew very still.
something here. it reminded him of the scent that had hung round the blackbird's den for a long time, that his mouth had tasted of for just the same length of time.
but this time, there would be no dog to kill.
a curl of his lip; merrick hunted about until he found the place where the wife of the mountain man made her den. merrick did not dare come close; his own beloved had left the mark of her warning clear. but harvestman, bruin-witch — he hovered in the treeline and stared at the place.