Bearclaw Valley Voice in my head

Setting: Evening — 19:24, sunset.
Weather: 78F — moderately cloudy, humid.

For anyone who wants to meet the big chonker!

Solomon wandering his new territory known as Bearclaw Valley. The place is beautiful — it piques his interest and he’s eager to meet the other inhabitants of the pack he’s recently joined.

Ursus. 

The word replays in his mind like a broken record.

Merrick. 

Death.

Simple, animalistic thoughts. Is he okay? What’s wrong with him? His mind akin to the sharpest of swords. Heightened by his human counterparts and their thoughtful teachings. Though recently, everything’s been a blur. His mind has been reduced to a blunt, cracked, useless dagger. Perhaps even comparable to a measly letter opener. 

What’s happened to him? 

Everything blends together. Does he have a brain injury? Perhaps he’ll die soon. He needs to grasp at his right mind again. Find his old, colorful self. The dullness that he sees the world through is deafening. Relentless in allowing him to find peace. 

How does he stop it? You can’t. Something says to him.

But why not? He wonders vaguely. All the while his paw pads have been steadily stepping forward. Unconsciously heading towards the stream now only a few meters in front of him. All of a sudden, he’s snapping out of whatever trance he was in. Blinking crystalline eyes, he shakes himself off. Droopy skin, flopping in every which direction. His head hurts. For now he puts the odd thoughts to the back of his head and bows his massive head down to drink. 

There’s something wrong with him.