Bearclaw Valley You're on your own

"i'm not much of a singer," merrick grinned in his lopsided, cold way. there was no hardness in ashlar, and he was perturbed by it. blood would come again to ursus, of that he was sure. in the interim, there must be things to engender a sharper edge to the little canary.
"a stranger?" he inquired, inviting ashlar to expand more into something he could possibly use. he glanced around their encampment, beckoned ashlar into a slow trot that meandered the perimeter of the place. "has music always appealed to you?"