Wapun Meadow traitor

"that depends on why you are here," merrick chirruped, a cheery sound that did not match the baleflame of his remaining eye. vesta, close; he knew that she would go into battle for him if he so wished. 
the bearwitch's gaze slid with carnal want across the strong young limbs, the haughty throat. 
the accent reminded him of many things, but namely things that merrick did not want to recall.
"ursus hunts this meadow," he informed the stranger pleasantly, catching the scent of several places, but none of pack.