Swiftcurrent Creek but anything is preferable to the pain

the saints. 
merrick watched as aventus lit with some inward darkness. it piqued the unfatherly character in him that might see such bleak energy as a challenge to his own. but he did not believe it was so. the respect with which he was treated by his nightfall son pleased the coywolf. aventus was a fitting bruin-jaw, but his hungers and wants must be honed.
"the saints." he breathed out, looking upon the snow. "your sister went after that white wolf," merrick commented in the next, though a flick of his tattered ear toward his son meant to gauge the reaction of the boy.
"how would you deal with donovan?"