Bearclaw Valley When you come long like an island

His most recent scent leads her to the entrance of the valley. Her jaw aches from holding the rabbit in her mouth, but she sighs when she finally sees him. It seems he sees her as well, for his cyclops gaze meets her form as she trots elegantly towards him, a smile weaving on her lips around her kill.

He moves off the rock, descending with practiced skill. He must sit up there often, she thinks. Her eyes roam his scarred form as he does so, but he does not speak, so Pandora does the honors. 

Trotting up to him and standing right in front, she lies the rabbit down at his paws. Her bloodied red orbs meet his single coppered one as she smiles confidently, proud to give him her measly kill.

“Great Merrick,” She greets, tone as smooth as honey. “I have many questions for you. If you’d entertain me…” She hums with a tilt of her head as she plants her haunches to the ground before him. “I was wondering about your worship of the bears actually. What makes them so special?” She asks finally getting right into it and curling her long, plush tail around her ankles.