Bearclaw Valley dream-land

what a fucking
dumbass.
were these what he had feared? merrick stared down at the gumming child with a perturbing sense of nicety overcoming his latent feelings of murder. it was not enjoyable, the touch; he was at once filled with a profound anxiety that if he were to shift his paw and shove the pillbug away, he would hurt the small body.
not interested enough to gather the finer details of the kid's identity, merrick worked his digits away from the gluey mouth and grimaced. "nice," he hissed aloud, glowering at the wriggling tuber. but he crouched down again to watch  little rounded nose and closed eyelids, enraptured by the helpnessness of one who had stolen his rook away.