Bearclaw Valley rum. bring a bottle of it.

aventus did not listen, and a terrible wrath clouded his impatient sire's voice. "no," merrick repeated, and lunged to pin the boy to the wet earth beneath the sinewy grip of a forepaw. "you have your entire life to die. not this way."
briefly pressing aventus down a little more firmly than was necessary, intent upon panic to reinforce the lesson, the witch relented and turned away from the carcass. "we'll find something better," merrick smirked sing-song, as if nothing had gone on only moments before.