Bearclaw Valley a ghost can speak dreadful things

uhh i love it sm

"omensong," he repeated, pleased with the ring of it. he gazed at the gnarled thing, amazed despite himself at how high the tree seemed to reach. "an old place," merrick mumbled, blinking at the newly-titled sentinel. "i like it."
satisfied, the bear-prince stepped forward, rubbing flanks and shoulders against the ancient bole. loose fur caught in the bark, tufts of merrick himself, and he moved away with a stretch in his gait. "you should name more things, toad," he teased in a sing-song voice.