Bearclaw Valley rum. bring a bottle of it.

blood, and in the crush of it, the witch. 
crimson poured from eyes and ears and nose and merrick came awake with a twitching gasp to a silent, starless night.
mouth pooled with saliva, and he knew no wretch save for that of a wolf could quell him now.
easthollow and their teeth — they would ignore him and steal from him? 
overhead, a crack of thunderhead, and then the sweeping rain. he stood quiet in the deluge, single eye glinting toward the denmouth where his children lay, and then he was off, trotting pointedly through ursus toward silverstone.