Bearclaw Valley matthew died in this house

the ursine's face contorted into a savior's pain, as if reflecting all the agony upswelling and overspilling within merrick. not even astara looked at him with such open agony for his own wounds.
the bear made of himself a magdalene; without another thought for his safety, crushing instinct underfoot, merrick rushed into the heavy embrace and thrust his face into the thick winter pelage.
kill me; love me; a low croon of anguish emitted from darkened lips as his body began to warm and soften against the beautiful vessel for the wild spirit that clamoured in his chest.
merrick wept, as much for himself as to be touched by a god.