Bearclaw Valley the valley of unrest

she cranes her neck to stare at the approaching figure. at his words, her gaze shifts from impassive to something akin to 'no shit, sherlock,' and then she looks ahead again, continuing her foray along the boundary line. she's got a little bit of urine left in her and squats once more. the stream hisses against a small, stout bit of clover.

he must be here to patrol, too. she'll welcome his company as long as he doesn't keep telling her things she already knows. why does he feel the need to treat her like a child? Merrick doesn't.

Avicus stands again and forges ahead, casting a brief glance over her shoulder at the warrior, wondering if he'll continue to admonish her, or follow without argument.