Bearclaw Valley windes blast and weder strong

he connected, if only barely, and at a cost—he felt teeth rake over his ears, his scalp, sending pinpricks of hot pain all-too close to his skull. his growl erupts into a full-blown snarl, a strangled yelp, and he abruptly shifts tactics in the manner of a man unused to combat.

instead, he tries to use brute strength (lacking the stature, naturally) twisting and barreling into merrick with the intent of knocking the man over.

blood has been drawn; he feels no reticence now.

he will take hits to his body if he can only get his teeth into. . . he reaches, snapping, looking for a bit of flesh to grab; not to sever, not to bloody, just to—survive—!