Stone Circle vittorio

the looming of his hot veins had kept merrick awake, listening to the breath of his own throat, the heartbeat that resonated solely in his chest.
what part of these things had indra created? the boy had become content enough not to think of her, but her anguised face in its last moments arrived in starlight to plague him.
unfettered, restless, at dawn the young coywolf left his nightshade with a firm look that told her he must not be followed. out of the valley he traveled, cutting a swathe through the newfallen snow for their silent, voluminous neighbor.
easthollow.
more than a trace of @Laurel upon the borders here, in the crisp snow, upon shrubberies, and he was caught up in a hot welling of hatred. his aunt had decided many things over his head, and weak indra followed her bidding as if she were born to it.
merrick's single eye burned toward the tall standing stones in a furor that grew as he waited, waited for something unknown and unseen, waited upon the whim of ursus growling in his breast.