Bearclaw Valley till so many decades had passed

outside den, aw

he lay in the warmth, soaking it in like a jaded black stone, and pretended he did not know he was so close to where the children played. merrick still refused to think of them as belonging to him, on stubborn principle he would never abandon. it had been her decision, and so let her live with it.
he flung his kills into the clearing and left more likely than not, though lately the bearwolf had been hanging about a bit more frequently, ears thrust in the direction of the little creatures who had finally come to resemble his kind.
he winced at the bright color of the girl; there were a handful of nights during which merrick had lain sleepless, thinking that dispatching her life might be worth the ghost she carried. but ultimately he had let go of the notion.
the boy had no such curse upon him; his hue kept him from the edge of his father's teeth, but it was the complete awe and submission with which he was regarded that had truly softened merrick.
presently he let his tongue loll, yawned, stretched upon the sunkissed earth.