Barrow Fields Bramble shark

Yeah, Swordfish answered, tone dismal. Da bear.

A flash of pink from his mouth, tongue swiped across his whiskers. The tightening in his shoulders would reflect his issues speaking on the subject of his family. When he had followed the scent of the beast into the unknown, he had believed it would mean the end of his life. The further he’d gone, the less it felt like punishment.

The bear had paid its debt in its own blood. Swordfish had made sure of it. He had wore the animal’s crimson on his coat for days, until he’d reeked. Triumph had done little to ease the pain in his chest. The bear-hunter had come to realize that there would be no relief for such things.