Bearclaw Valley till so many decades had passed

brazen little flame, she approached, a garbled word on her lip. "fight," merrick correct, though it was ignored as the red girl drew closer and closer. rust-cream guard hairs prickled, briefly; she was now a wolf, and one he had not bothered to know, inching past his few feet of personal space.
she smelled of the blackbird's saliva, of rocks, of dirt, notes of milk still clinging sweetly to the edge of her jaw. merrick, forced to inhale, felt neurons peel themslves from dormancy.
the child, the small weight of her unbelievably trusting body pressed against the bearwolf,
her father
merrick felt his stomach contract in a primal reflexiveness, and in a moment he had retched live-skinned rabbit onto the earth between his paws. bittersweet, mangled; his hunger for flesh matched that of the scarlet daughter, and he withdrew into himself to consider what had happened, infused with a sudden and unnameable feeling.