Bearclaw Valley You're on your own

quick little sentence fragments threaded with a jeweled joy. merrick leant forward;
the serpent shifted behind his eyes
"well, like me, of course."
and what did ashlar think of him? what did the boyish little rogue spot curling in the corner of the misshapen gaze? could he see the rot that climbed the tree of merrick like a creeping vine? lip fought to curl up; he forced it back and back and down and down.
and breathed in the scent of the boy, which was calming for the fragrance of ursus,
"i've never known anyone like you." not even snowskip, for she had seemed only naive where ashlar thrummed with a true and pious delight.