Bearclaw Valley dream-land

it can be assumed that merrick had not formally returned to the den following the explosive night of his children's birth. compelled by something that could not rightly be called paternal, he had kept up small hunts, angrily hurling the limp bodies of prey across the clearing toward the forbidden denmouth and leaving before his turncoat raven saw fit to scour him again.
she had left a ring of teethmarks around his remaining eye, and through the naked, half-healed wounds, he glowered now toward the silent shelter and its unseen inhabitants. glancing around for the woman, the mad boy slowly sank to his haunches a good ways away, seeking any movement at the stone lip.