Bearclaw Valley Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men.

merrick led the both of them to the medicine den now gone cold in evien's absence. it had been where the son of his body had resided; now it would provide respite to the son of the mountain. "i want you to rest here," he told the boy once they had both come to nestle inside the cleft, the stream outside frozen with winterbite.
but he did not leave, not yet; his eyes traversed the ragged look of tuur, and then he glanced around, in the direction of the place where the physician had always kept his herbs so organized.
"if you want this place as your home, then learn to use those things," merrick gestured. "if it is not for you, then when you have grown stronger, we will search in ursus for a place to belong." the single eye searched the weakened face.
"but it is something you must choose."