Silvertip Mountain sun in the bloodied hand

merrick stared at ashlar, who had suddenly stumbled quickly into his field of vision. the bearwitch switched his plume, studying the boy and his horrified expression.
but he chose to do nothing;
lips curved to himself;
perhaps the bear had at last shown himself in a form the bard had understood.
merrick built this truth swiftly and with much dedication to its merit, and flung his plume upward in a prideful banner.