Silvertip Mountain sun in the bloodied hand

Ashlar did not know what to expect as he followed. His fear did grow some as a result, despite his intention to remain firm, but nothing could have prepared him for the skeleton. Ashlar stopped, horrified by the sight of it. And as Merrick drew his comparisons, the earthen boy began to wonder if this was some sort of example.

No. The bears had killed him... and Merrick wouldn't hurt him. Ashlar quailed as the image of the impaled coyote once more surged forth, burned into his memory, and doubt crept along his spine.

They wouldn't.

What's wrong with peace? Ashlar asked with a trembling voice. He couldn't stop his eyes from being drawn back to the skull. Evien sounded like a wolf who cared... one he might have even gotten along with here, who would have made a good friend. Without many of those here, it made him even sadder for this wolf he'd never gotten the chance to meet - but Ashlar would have felt that mourning regardless. He always did.