Bearclaw Valley We started livin’ in an old house

Through his occasionally blurry vision he can see the king of this valley come forth. His steps careful, as they should be. Bishop is unstable, so mentally ruin that he can’t quite wrap it around his paw himself. And it’s all because of those people who tried taking him away from his family. It’s because whatever fixed day old, life threatening wounds into healed scars is driving him insane. 

He see the other and his shoulders sag, while somehow tensing up all together. A fraud he might hurt the man who had allowed him into his home even though he was a clueless stranger. Yet, even though Merrick can tell there’s something wrong, he presses horribly close. It has Solomon backing up just a few inches of only for the coy wolf’s well being. He never knows when he’ll go into a fit of rage he’s been so prone to these last few months. 

“Don't come too close.” He warns softly, wearily.

The mastiff mix groans as if he’s in pain at the alpha’s searching question. He is in pain. His head constantly hurts and his muscles are sore from how much he’s traveled lately. 

“I- I don’t know.” He grumbles out. “Or... I might. I know there’s something wrong.” His deep voice sounds almost strained as he locks pale eyes with the others. “Whatever healed me — whatever stopped me from dying is rotting my mind and taking over my body. I don’t... I can’t control what I do sometimes.” He hums somberly down to the other male. 

He’s not blind to what the symptoms sound like. It could be a possible case of rabies, but he’s seen rabies before and this isn’t it. It’s something ethereal, some type of dark magic or curse.