Bearclaw Valley a chalice of pastel blood

He was being hunted.
No, sought.
In a pack, he was sought by his packmates.

And it was Merrick. The other that seemed to lead here. Earp hadn't spoken to many of his packmates, just mere nods and shit. Whatever.
But a wolf behind him crossed the river, and he stopped to turn. He waited patiently. He wouldn't be rude, but nor forthcoming unless prodded.