Bearclaw Valley I'm not afraid

"big guy!" ancelin hooted. he had caught the scent of blood and then of a stranger, but they were often right here, escorted by one or other of the massive guardians to where a leader waited on acceptance.
his stance was friendly, the wave of his tail refrained from anyone except what looked like a wandering young messenger with a gift. "this is bearclaw valley. i'm ancelin. can i help you?"
wouldn't ameline be so proud of his new customer service voice? probably not, as it came from a man who still looked like a frankensteinean idea of what decoration should be, a man littered with bones and sap and lately, dried coyote blood.