Bearclaw Valley some kind of metal made up from glue

sharply he wondered if she was leaving him. was that why she sought to escape his grasp? lopsided gaze hardened. I am yours. you are mine.
shards shredding the sensation of trust. merrick snarled, aching for astara, but suddenly mistrustful, rage rising in his gorge.
how fucking dare she
when she stumbled, he was upon her, jaws blindly reaching to grab and hold and rip as he thrust his body toward her and sought to keep
her
here