Bearclaw Valley chthonic

<3 mumther can maim him for this ok

had he ever tasted the blood of a newborn?
the slick inner taste of something not meant for his tongue, coating aventus —
aventus, bruin-jaw.
pride, shimmering, before once more it melted into a solemn pointed focus.
the den.
he had crowfeathers caught in his mouth. the bird's limp head bumped against his jawline. 
mine mine mine m—
he cast it at the threshhold, thrust his slim-scarred shoulders inside, hardened by a thousand words; he picked the spindly strange child up, not a tooth nicking the odd spiderling body, and put them on the ground just outside the lip of the den, between his calloused pads.
a grub, but one of his own, he saw now.this time. doing better already, merrick, he congratulated himself, before he began to invasively pore over the cub, eyelid tightening in preparation for whatever blow might fall as he sought to ensure that this one would not need to be culled.
ursus had no charity.