Bearclaw Valley antlermoon

indra waited.
abel lay at his feet.
ash growled.
merrick rounded on her with clack of jaws and thrust of a hardmuscled shoulder; it was respect that kept him from desiring to wound her; it was something else which compelled him to act at once;
to remind;
in another world he might have already possessed her and he him, but astara's ghost lived inside merrick, haunting all the corners of him with her indigo light, and this was how it must be, for this was how he wished it.
but there was no dearth of wanting light in his single eye as he sparred with her a moment;
"they are blood of my blood," he said in regards to the children who lay prone and raptured.