Bearclaw Valley cold honey

ursus shimmered silently beneath a blanket of heat.
the redstone path cast back the sun's wrath, reflecting into the proud trees until they had half-scorched, half-succumbed
the bears had retreated to cooler shadows;
the blood to be found in their land had lessened.
and now the sky, hazy with smoke.
"you've turned against us, haven't you?" merrick said aloud, crooning to the spirit coiled in his own breastbone.
but there was no answer. there had not been an answer in long days.
the wolves that had come and gone. what did they know? what did they seek? whose ear did they want? or have —
merrick paced, and dry earth turned to dust beneath his hard paws.
the skyline danced before his single eye.
under the blood of his mother had he come back to this valley, had he built in this valley. from her crushed bones he had raised an army.
but the scarlet rivers had long run dry, and merrick felt his tongue parch not for want of water.
he thought of his first and horrible moment; the thing of ecstasy; of want; of what had danced upon his tongue to surya's ears, yes —!
yes yes yes;
the cave of glass, dripping now in mind's eye with bear's-blood and the way that lightning had smote every tissue of merrick, and remade him.
seek, suddenly, the bruin-voice that had remained silent so long.
he stilled to nothingness;
"we will go back. to seek you."
the single eye stared at nothing, sightless, darkening.