Lion Head Mesa I sip on you to wash down the shame

politics. empty words.
the bear roared in merrick's mind.
the image of astara's torn body clawed at the maddened, foaming psyche.
"i will sleep outside," the bearwolf declared. this place beneath the earth was too weighty now; he yearned for the stars and the open air. "i will tell the others to do the same."
he meant to dismiss himself, and wheeled toward the entrance, determined to carve his way back to the skies.