Bearclaw Valley child of sun, child of moon

lure him.
the words of aventus had echoed in his mind for some time; recent events had bittered the bearking. in him beat the ache to rip and to claw, to be wild once more. ursus was silent. the bears were silent. he agonized that he had not done enough to savour the past year.
a dirge, rising in a bold arc over the valley.
the coywolf's nape prickled with the remembered anger and humiliation that the conversation had evoked.
putting to use his more subtle step, merrick wended his way toward the caller, out of sight and near-silent. he did not reveal himself once he had arrived, surveying the brilliant gold coloration of her coat and its too-striking features.
merrick shifted to a patch of thorns. 
"who calls for the bears?" he sang back, voice thundering with the same energies the stranger had given.