Blackfoot Forest and the things that i've loved are the things i have lost

these days he was quite tired of his borders outside ursus being trampled. traipsing down to the river, merrick filled himself for what would be quite a journey, and then set off along the redrock path, lip curled in determined angst.
in the meadow he sprayed a goodly toast to ursus; carried away by his own diligence, merrick strayed farther and farther toward the distant mountains, hiking leg ever so often along the way.
not blood to shed, but a trail of his own scent followed merrick, proud and rebellious despite the edict of his kind that they keep to their own lands.
the sunspire. he remembered his time here with both a foggy mien, and in living color. was it not in this place that he had met the rook? merrick prowled at once into the haunted welcome of the darkened coppice.
there was a trail here that sparked vague familiarity in the bearwitch. he had little way of knowing who it was his blood-hued daughter had met, only that the fragrance had lingered both close to ursus and here.
thinking it a fluke, merrick wended his way through the shadowland, bitten ears cupping at the sound of a lisping young voice to his right. it was joined by another, the tones of a woman; he bit the inside of his jaw, delighted to think he had come upon mother and child in this charcoal atmosphere.
cunning, silent, merrick crept close and peered toward the pair. a curvaceous milk-cafe she-wolf, a pale, gangly pup, now gripped in the claws of some emotion. he fed upon it readily, a bat lapping sugar from the innards of fruit, then passed himself into eyeshot, a scar-gnarled satyr who glinted teeth in a grin and set his single eye upon the girl. "what's got you all worked up?"