Bearclaw Valley never bet the devil your head

she had gone far, his crimson child. her weariness was palpable — merrick was somehow loathe to leave her beneath the skilled eye of the pack's bruin-leaf.
and yet only with evien did such secrets of healing lie.
merrick let his mind spiral out beyond the expanse of ursus. he tried to picture his rook, the proud look of her in the snow, the determination of the burning indigo eyes.
fearsome down to her very step. merrick longed for her swiftly and desperately, was rocked with agony that she had not yet returned.
but he did not wish to destroy the hope in flesh of his flesh, in blood of his blood.
they had come close to evien's den; the bruin-witch paused to turn his gaze over avicus.
"blood flower," nearest the only affectionate thing he had ever spoken, "i will be back for you."