Bearclaw Valley goldclaw

the smell of fresh meat drew karst from his hiding place; he had not yet refilled the reliquaries that once housed evien's collection, and as he emerged he felt the fur along his nape prickle, eyes trained upon merrick.

his tattered ears flicked towards the sound of his voice and then flattened. he had not expected this — and sank back in to the dark of the hovel, deflated.

i can't, admits the boy against his better judgement.

but, i cleaned out the old and the rotten. i have tried to match what is stored to fresh things beneath the snow. karst moved aside to let the bruin-witch inspect what remained; he squished himself against the farthest wall to compensate, making himself as small as he could (which wasn't very).