Bearclaw Valley a chalice of pastel blood

merrick panted, grinning, catching earp's sideways glance. a jerk of his muzzle leftward, and he would dart right. they would pincer the fox between them in one of the bearwolf's favorite tactics, and then,
perhaps they would see how a fox loses its pelt,
merrick sped on and on and on, gleeful at how well earp had fit into the shadows, and how terrified the beast would be to see pure nightfall reaching for it.