Wapun Meadow There's ice in my water,

her desperation was beautiful; it fired merrick and brought all his hungers to bear upon the ragged retreat she spun through the snow. 
her gambit was less lovely; she clawed debris and drifts up toward the bearwolf; it slowed merrick but only for a moment. he was terrible. inexorable. and he knew each detail of rising sun.
nostrils flared; he dodged to the other side. his laughter spun out and around. the man was panting but not yet flagging; he wanted another taste of this one's blood.
merrick purred a low and wordless note, attempting to drive her to one side before she crossed out of the meadow.