Bearclaw Valley My mind won’t let me rest

Merrick. Ursus. A new name, a new place. There’s something different about this man — something dark and sinister. Solomon is wary of wolves. Feels like killing them all his life will come back to bite him in the ass. Maybe it has. He got taken away from his new humans. 

This man looks like a warrior though. Someone with skill and finesse in battle. Something Solomon had nothing of. The battles with the wolves who tried killing the fluffy, hooved animals were blunt and clumsy. He’s not a trained killer, he’s messy and definitely needs training. Perhaps this man could provide that. Being around wolves makes him queasy though. Unease prickling up his spine and burying itself in his fur.

Still his eyes catch on Merrick’s mouth, a smirk as his lips move around the sound of his name. Then comes his teasing reply. One Bishop finds making him laugh. An easy smile of his own bubbles past his lips. “Wolves.” He hums back, icy hues never leaving Merrick’s own fiery ones. “Whatever you want me to kill.” He adds as if trying to seal the deal.