Wapun Meadow garrote

Donovan is on his way to Ursus. He needs to speak to Merrick. He’s not desperate, but he’s surely in a rush. The twitch in his head to kill is strong, almost overwhelming. He needs it, but his leg still hurts. Fuck why can’t it heal faster?

The rain pours down onto his dense form as he trots through the valley of flowers near the infamous Bearclaw valley. A striking howl throws chills down his spine. His ears swivel and he doesn’t recognize the howl. It’s close enough to Ursus for him to have the desire to rush to the sound. Perhaps they’re in need of bodies. 

He urges himself into a gallop. Heaven paws thumping and splashing through the flooded meadow he rushes to the call of said wolf.

Upon arrival, he sees Merrick. His golden gaze is intense and he can’t help the smile that comes to his maw as he chuffs to signal his arrival if he hasn’t already seen him. “Merrick.” He hums out the males name, stopping fairly close to him.