Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

a churlish grin, one that lit merrick's features with a boyish light. "i'm always up to something." a sidelong swing of his narrow hips, and he was closer to the large tiger-man, who wore coingold eyes and raked them over the boy's scarface demeanour.
a survey of his land then, and at length merrick slowed to lift his muzzle toward the air.
"it certainly isn't boring having you around. what's your name?" for once he did not offer his; tonguetip between teeth, he turned a teasing glance back at his companion and was silent.