Big Salmon Lake i imagine death so much, it feels more like a memory

merrick had calculated for the onslaught, but not the true target. pain seared into his body; he bellowed in a paroxysm of agony and rage — relief that it was finally beginning — and swung his muzzle, snapping for the other’s lips, ears, any part reachable.
it was however unsatisfactory, the lingering sensation that he had not truly taunted the man into an attack. it stung far more to know this than anything The Hunter had spat at him; fangs naked, the yearling found himself dragged down.
but the waters remained, and he thrashed within them like a serpent, willingly a sacrifice to the man’s teeth if only for the present.