Bearclaw Valley My mind won’t let me rest

This Merrick man is interesting. Bishop likes him — maybe. Just maybe. He doesn’t want to like wolves. He wants to kill them and protect those cute, fluffy hoofed animals. His flock is gone though. Where did they go? Or maybe it’s where did he go? That’s the past and the present seems more important right now. So he shoves the thoughts behind him and drives on.

The way he speaks and moves has Bishops head hurting for some reason. Focusing on anything has him hurting. He squints pretty blue eyes and nods to the coy, but perks up as soon as he sees the food. He likes women. Has seen strength in his birth mother. He knows they can whoop some ass. 

“Thank you.” He hums lowly. A simple thanks, yet his full eyes weren’t the same as when he first greeted Merrick. They seemed to go in and out of focus.

He leans down smelling the dead animal and it has glops of drool falling from drooping lips. Yet the curious twist in Merrick’s voice has him looking up to him from where his head is bowed down ready to eat. That’s about it though and he’s chomping down on the bird like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. Almost swallowing it whole.