Bearclaw Valley the masque of the red death

for a long, malevolent moment, merrick peered at his bloodstained girl. he did not enjoy the red look of her smudged in red speaking a name that evoked red and autumn and his jaws around the failing red throat of h —
lip lifted; he grappled with the urge to strike her for daring to repeat what his mad bitch aunt had said that day, then let it ebb from him and settled his haunches to the earth. 
"i will tell you one time. and then never — never — say that name to me again." remaining eye blazing into her own, the purpled spin of her mother and he feared indra might see through the pupils of the little murderer into his own heart. "do you understand?"