Bearclaw Valley i can’t help being a gorgeous fiend

water, and the cold rush of it. he woke to anger and rushed to the stream. satisified and calmed for a moment, merrick followed the branch of it up and up, for it led into a darker reach of the forest. there he found brambles, and though he tried to avoid them, merrick found that they snagged his dark fur.
thus leaving a trail by which to follow, the madman shouldered his way through the nipping teeth and pressed on.

maybe @Orson? :D

yee b

The memory of the child held up high, torn from its mother's side, of the dog's cry and then his lifeless eyes for daring to protect the innocent...it stuck with her, niggling into her mind and creating a whirlwind of worry that was rare for her. Even as she completed her familiar routine — wandering through the Valley, adding her scent to the borders and scrounging up whatever food she could find — she felt distant. Until she saw him.

Merrick. 

Her chest tightened, and she was sent back again to that day. Should she even bring such a thing up, lest she meets the same fate as the dog — Fraser was his name, the poor lad.

It felt foolish, but she chuffed, declaring her presence to her alpha. Better come at him head on that sneaking up on him and giving the bastard a fright.

the thorns bit deeper into his flesh. "fuck," the boy grunted, ripping himself from the briar-patch in time to hear orson's gentle sound. "hey, you," the young coywolf grinned, leaving tufts of his pelt on the jagged teeth. "shit patch of land right here. maybe it needs a name."
merrick, all jokes. merrick; no mention of the thing he had done, the wicked thing that still woke him from feverish sleep in the night and plagued him with the closest thing to guilt he had ever felt. a blink. "tell me what you've been up to, orson."

She wanted to laugh, and nearly did, her chest flutter and a gust of air squeaking out. But she could not forget the sight of Merrick, holding his newborn as if he was about to tear it asunder. Porcupine Cove, she said, her mind suddenly recalling the pale woman she met at Porcupine Ridge. Too many places named after the prickily little mammals. Huntin' and patrollin' mostly. 'm plannin' on venturing out to check up on the packs 'round 'ere.

"porcupine cove it is," merrick whistled cheerily, falling into step alongside her. all cloaked beneath normalcy now, as if none of the birth-stuff had ever transpired. perhaps he had forgotten it. perhaps he had never remembered it.
nothing of those hours mattered to the boy now, or so he told himself. "oh? i hear there's a new one settled up that way," he groused, indicating the distant legion. far off, but not far enough. "you going to try your hand at spying?" he jested, turning a grin upon orson.

She watched the levity in his eyes, so distant from that night that still niggled in her brain and left her with doubt on her loyalty. I talk too much to spy, she grinned, tension tightening her teeth together. I'll give them a swing-by, though.

"good," merrick gloated. "i know the woman who runs the place. fucking awful." but he did not elaborate. despite his foul will, the boy did not want to disclose the nature of his beef with arbiter. "i might go out there myself, take a posse." he grinned. "things always go so well when we're all together."

Orson, for all her self-described roguishness, was not much of an actual rogue. Not like Merrick was. She hadn't realized it when they had first met, but it had become apparent to her after the birth of his children, and the death of Fraser. He was on a different level than her. The idea of harassing another pack left a sour taste in her mouth. Ye think we could handle it?

"positive," merrick quirked, having never doubted his wolves, nor the ways in which they had always comported themselves in matters of guardianship. ursus was constantly smeared with blood. it was the price they had both expected and exacted, red-sport for those who could stomach it.
deathly for those who might not.
but merrick counted orson as one of his own, as one of them. he had not yet seen the sheen of her fangs, but trusted it would be there all the same, one day. "they sent one our way. mouthy boy. threatened a lot of things. he was sent back as a message."