Silvertip Mountain chickity check yo self

anger made wolves stupid, merrick decided, watching his hunter leap toward him, or where he thought the boy to be. and over, over, over! over! he could scarcely hide his glee as he padded forth to look where the man had fallen and surely broken upon the cliff below.
but it was not to be. merrick felt an answering kick in his own stomach, one of disappointment not to see blood puddling over the rock. only a snarled, empty threat, the taste of the man's frustration. and though the yearling knew better than to allow his would-be assailant a good look at his features, he could not help the slow, mocking blink of his orange stare toward the downed predator, the teasing smile that flit across his countenance.
all at once, he turned away and headed off at a quick clip designed to carry him away from the teeth of the man who had promised to kill him, and it occurred to merrick as he sought his self-preservation that he had not seen blood upon the stone that night either.