Bearclaw Valley politics

<3

ancelin was killing.
you had to make an example of coyotes or else they continued to come back. wiping out packs of them was unsustainable, but the rex was not a biologist. with ameline perhaps pregnant, every instinct was on lock for violence, and he spent inordinate amounts of time answering it against their current foe.
he had slain two gravid coyotes this morning, dragged their bodies until viscera and blood caked the snow of their borders and beyond, into wapun. even foxes had not been spared, ancelin laying their limp figures in the glade and spraying over the vulpine musk there with his own piss.
a man primed for murder, he threw the dead coyote aside and began to hunt swiftly for another, broad paws carrying him along bearclaw scent in the direction of kvarsheim.
he found tvar there and rolled bloodstained shoulders in restless relief; a cursory sniff nearby brought him the messages that the other man had already received. "not doing well." tongue lolled, for in his current state he almost wanted to raid the stone circle and drive them away.
"maybe they'd come join us now," he joked, cleaning red from his stained jaws.