Bearclaw Valley some kind of nature, some kind of soul

merrick's single eye darted back and forth with a full-fledged and dark enthusiasm. excitement as first blood was drawn, droplets of it flung up into the air. the arc of it dazzled the boy; his jaws widened in a smile and burble of laughter that went on and on and grew louder and louder and LOUDER
until
he had lunged forward to separate the two. "not enough screaming," merrick called to astara in a show of faux exasperation, snapping toward their captive. not to provoke more wounds, no, no, only subdue. 
there would be time enough for the shrieks.
"i think he will be our guest for a little while."