Bearclaw Valley When your footsteps conquer the street

flare of nostrils and quick steps carried him to where the faithful soldier had called. a boy there, a dark brunet pelting him around a pair of frightened eyes. skoll was fearsome in his own way, merrick supposed with a bit of mirth; he snuck closer and chuffed toward the two.
"who's this?" though his single eye burned upon the young newcomer, and moment by moment he stole closer to grin down owlishly into the poor youth's soft visage.