Bearclaw Valley come up to the clouds my lamb

merrick danced in a tight weave before the charge of the animal. fleet-foot kept him from its gore, though it curved its antlers wickedly close on the second attempt. but the bearprince was laughing, a breathy, surprised sound that trickled from between teeth as he whirled and glittered away.
neither were yet wearied; merrick alone was no match for a beast of this size, and it needed to expend little energy for its tight jabs forward. perhaps it had stumbled into the valley by mistake, and was resolved to fight its way out.
one two three; and then he was,
tripping over one of revui's stonebaked sons, not quite collapsing but distracted enough to take his single eye off the game and onto the boy. "what the f —" and then the coywolf spoke no more, for again the brute lowered its head and charged them both.
perhaps more roughly than he needed, or perhaps it was simply the only thing to occur within his head, merrick thrust his scarred muzzle downward and made to punt astyanax far and away, hopefully hard enough to clear the boy from beneath the stamping hooves.