Bearclaw Valley the masque of the red death

he noted her correction; it soothed him further from the earlier mention. merrick, thus lulled by her obedience, was less reluctant to answer. "because you look like her," the bearwolf said plainly. "but you are not her. laurel's mind snapped; she is insane."
the irony of it, dissolving like glitter into the texture of his brain.
"she had the same red coat." 
by telling avicus, it would not come to pass, he hoped; would it discourage her? change her way of being?
he was silent, watching her.