Meadowlark Prairie perfect, you're my poison

the shrinking, tiny thing said two names, neither of which were recognized by the man.
he flicked his gaze over her shoulder, toward the range of cursed mountains guarding the expansive murdering saints;
he felt nothing for the impending clash of their teeth;
for merrick knew he would have his pound of flesh in dozen.
"forgive me. i'm new here." the words were mocking but the tone was dead. "who leads akashingo?"