Lion Head Mesa nor do poets

ingram.
it is unrecognizable. there are so few things that remained with merrick.
the sight of astara's torn fur rose in his mind, and he steadied himself on the look of the stone teeth beyond ingram.
"i am merrick of ursus."
the bearwolf went on: "this is not our home. it is where we have come to take vengeance upon murderers."
a toss of his muzzle toward the mesa that looms close and gigantic. "that is akashingo. they are our hosts. this will be a battlefield. you join in understanding of that."
a furthering monotone. it ends as he waits for the other to reply.