Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

merrick had never been handled so roughly. it was always he who had been the commander, under his call that the others bent and beckoned. ursus came to and fro; merrick watched from the high places of the valley. he had made himself a judge and executioner, their eager teeth his jury. blood spilled by a twitch of his lip.
but now all that was swept away by donovan's precise, controlled movements; merrick bared his teeth at the close of the tiger's jaws round his nape, but the growl subsided into a breathless laugh, then a gasp.
the serpent was jarred; it fell to hang between his teeth, as much as merrick felt himself pillared, held, reined.
and the end came quickly for him, a hoarse moan echoing across the meadow as he succumbed to the connection of himself to the other and allowed fire to consume him.