Bearclaw Valley You're on your own

Ashlar had hoped that perhaps Merrick might give him a subject or a preference.  Instead the lead left an open door.  The young bard thought about it for a moment, pairing words that seemed to rhyme as he crafted a song Merrick might appreciate.  He was torn at first between slow and rousing, but today wasn't a day for slow.  The sun was out and the sky was beautiful.

Spirit.  Hear it, near it.  Claws.  Jaws.  Fight, might, contrite.  Strong, belong.

He played this game often as he wandered and it helped to warm him up for when he needed to fit the sounds to the pattern of a rhythm.  Slowly he started to hum, picking up in tempo and volume as he let his confidence warm upon the joy of the tune.

In the valley of the bear lives a family strong
Proud of the power they carry
True to their name and the order, they belong
here, far from those ordinary

When the spirit calls and the night grows dark
With one voice they reply
Neath a moon on high and a field of stars
A single chorus on high

Tooth and claw
We defend our home
Keep from here those who would harm it

Chest and maw
We commend our own
Sing to the sky shades of garnet

As the bear does fight so they will fight,
Firm are the roots of their claim
It gifts its might to the favored in its sight
That within this valley remain.

It was an odd song for him, but in his time here, Ashlar had learned some about the pack he'd joined.  He knew that they worshipped the bear and that it meant a lot to them, and he knew that Merrick's family was a force that terrified him.  He'd wanted his song to give both because he thought, perhaps, the bear king might enjoy it.

As the final notes faded, though, his nerves returned.  He fell silent, waiting eagerly for a response and dreading that perhaps the song had not been good at all.