Wapun Meadow Down my thigh

this was the true bleakness of it all. merrick reveled in it. to meet a foxwitch so close, like a breath of wintertime amid the flowers, pleased him. it meant somehow that the magick and might of ursus had never been diminished, even if she did not return to the valley at his heels.
"i could never," he told her with a harsh little laugh, black, rotted. his remaining eye caressed her features with the air of one who must eat, who must devour.
"blood is my sustainment." his curse and his want, ever since indra had died by his hand.