Bearclaw Valley a chalice of pastel blood

"four months," merrick answered, thinking of the things that had brought him here. had brought the bearwolves together. earp was an interesting sort, he decided; the atramentous nature of the accented man held several levels of intrigue.
"your last clan," and here he paused the question, tonguetip touching lips. all of it: the ancients, the sibling-fuckery, the way earp's voice sounded to his ear. "they came here?" priest. now that was a name, though merrick found himself found of this one's title, for he was in service to the bear now. "did you ever sacrifice then?"