Lion Head Mesa nor do poets

merrick kept himself free of akashingo and watched the mountains. ursus had stayed a small camp along one border of the pharaoh's land.
merrick himself grew more wordless as the days went on. with little reason to speak unless it was demanded of him, he simply did not. the bearwolf took his own patrols around the mesa, pointedly avoidant of any wolf that did not belong to his pack.
it was on one such outing that merrick heard the voice of a young wolf, calling for those who followed the bear. the man was a tall shadow against the flatter plain, and when at last he stood in front of the stranger, he remained silent.
single eye roved starkly over the youth. young as his own children from this year. both gone to him now. seawater glare and something steel despite the tender months.