Bearclaw Valley viridis

avicus, a press, and the glitter of the bloodstar pacing off and off. merrick's eye did not leave the stranger. "no." voice cool, for their meet was swiftly coming to an end. "check easthollow," and a sardonic lilt attended his lips. "it's that way. can't miss it."
merrick drew up, lopsided stare turning to orestone. "was there anything else?" a pleasant host, tip tip tapping in a lure along the sticky edge of his web; flesh for his children if the right words were not spoken.