Bearclaw Valley i can’t help being a gorgeous fiend

"positive," merrick quirked, having never doubted his wolves, nor the ways in which they had always comported themselves in matters of guardianship. ursus was constantly smeared with blood. it was the price they had both expected and exacted, red-sport for those who could stomach it.
deathly for those who might not.
but merrick counted orson as one of his own, as one of them. he had not yet seen the sheen of her fangs, but trusted it would be there all the same, one day. "they sent one our way. mouthy boy. threatened a lot of things. he was sent back as a message."