Wapun Meadow dripping in rot

"excuse me, you cyclops-lookin fuck, this is bearclaw land," ancelin intoned, hackles spearing into white rage. this was enough of a cluster to annoy him; being told to 'stand down' on the extended grounds of his own valley had the rex heated.
they didn't back off, and so he entered the proverbial ring with a snarl, crowding toward the belligerent hunters with a pointed glare.
now he spared a look for the diminutive woman and the wrecked man. "i don't want your drama here. take him and leave," he told her, an act of mercy in any other moment. sending them away might well result in the stranger's death, but that wasn't bearclaw business. if he lived, he could be a dad to his kids far far away from here.
these two, on the other hand; ancelin eyed them again, dire warning in his stare if they didn't fuck off in exactly two seconds. no one traipsed into their land and demanded things. no one at all. that ugly bastard's head could swing on his boundary line along with the other vermin.