Bearclaw Valley follow me into the golden white

the valley still felt too big. too open, too loud, too… full. twitch hated it. well—no, not hated. she just wasn’t used to it. back home, she’d never known life like this. she’d always been on the outskirts, kept herself scarce, quiet. and now she was here. in it. surrounded. pressed in on all sides by wolves she didn’t really know, mountains she didn't know, and it gnawed at her nerves like teeth on bone.

so she kept moving. her paws cut shallow lines into the frosted earth as she crept along the valley’s edge, close enough to still see the others, but far enough that she wouldn’t be noticed or draw attention. the morning air burned her lungs with every breath, her limbs aching from a sleepless nights. she hadn’t found comfort in the dens yet. didn’t feel like she belonged in them.

a crow cawed overhead, and twitch flinched. her ears flattened tight to her skull, and she cursed herself under her breath. get a grip. she was fine. she was fine.

…still, she didn’t realize she wasn’t alone until a shape moved in the corner of her vision. her head snapped toward it, fur bristling, gaze sharp.

she flinches and he laughs, a loud, booming sound. the man emerges fully then, dark mask sprawled into an amusement, ignorant expression; watching her closely. seeing the way she recoils back at his intrusion.
calm down, girl. he rumbles, appraising her now with cool eyes.
he hums softly and moves further into the light, enjoying the warmth upon his back now that the winter had begun to turn to spring. he was northern, through and through—but he knew when to appreciate the sun. looking back over his shoulder.
come on. wanna show you something.

her ears flicked back, tight against her skull, as the sound of his laughter split the air. it jarred her like a snap of bone, and her muscles seized as if she was already itching to bolt. she wished the ground beneath her would open up and swallow her so he did not have to see the way she shrank from him.

twitch’s throat worked around a swallow, her mouth dry. she didn’t move when he stepped further into the light, the sun casting sharp angles across his frame. he was just as big as she remembered. thick-built, heavy in the shoulders. calm down, girl.

easy for you to say, she thought bitterly, you're built like a fucking mountain. she does not voice it. instead, she sucked in a tight, shallow breath and tried to will her fur to lay flat again. it didn’t work very well—never really did.

when he turned back, coaxing her to follow, her first instinct was to say no and scamper off to the nest she'd made herself beneath an old tree. but her paws, stupid and starved for belonging, said go, and go she went.

she says nothing, but she steps after him like a shy puppy. “what, uh…” her voice came small and gravelly, like it might crack under its own weight. her throat clicked as she swallowed. “what is it?”

he huffs, more laughter. you will see. he trails off.
beginning a long walk through the open valley, looking where the snow had begun to melt. exposing the grass, which sprouted with the coming of spring. growing with life, beginning to glitter with color anew. this is what he meant to show her.
look around, he rumbles to her, smell the air.
his dark paws begin to wind a path through a sparse clearing of trees, where gravel and rock sit at the bottom of a cliff side. there, a path up the mountain; he beckons her with his tail. at the top, a beautiful view to unfurl before their eyes. he lets her go first, and stands back as she takes in the view.
you must stop moping around, twitch. tvar says. winter leaves. with it, comes life. the valley has much to offer.

you will see.

vague, but she trailed after him. he spoke as if he was trying to make her enjoy it. like he didn't think she did. it would be an untrue assumption—twitch had great admiration for the land. she always would.[/color]

the snow was retreating in patches, giving way to brittle grass and splashes of dull green. it smelled… damp. like thawing earth and new growth. "yeah, smells like dirt," she muttered to herself with a huff, half under her breath.

she didn’t quite trust where this was going. she didn't like that he was being vague, nor did she like that he was being pretentious. he beckoned her uphill, and she eyed the path hesitantly before begrudgingly hauling herself up the incline. “this better not be some weird pack initiation,” she grumbled as she climbed, muttering mostly to herself. “like, ‘haha, let’s see if the new girl eats shit on a mountainside.’ real funny.”

by the time she crested the top, though—oh. her paws stilled. the air was thinner. cooler. clearer. and the view—gods. the entire valley sprawled out beneath her like something out of a storybook. rivers carved like silver veins through fields of green, speckled with the first breath of spring flowers. it goes without saying that it is pretty.

her mouth parted like she might say something, but nothing came out. it lasts for all of ten seconds before he ruined it.

her fur bristled at the implication. she wasn't some miserable whelp—she was fine. she always was, even if that was all she was. "didn't think i was. i'm always like this." the truth, unfettered. a majority of her adolescence was spent like this; it wasn't like she had many aspirations that gave her motivation for much more. being listless was her lifestyle.

he hums, thoughtful, ears twitching once as he regards the landscape with quiet reverence. the air bites at his fur, but he welcomes it—reminds him of home.
always like this, hm? a gentle mockery, a hint of tease. there is more to life than lurking in shadows, twitch.
he glances at her sidelong, expression unreadable.
the world does not wait. it moves. whether you do or not is your choice.

twitch meets his words with a wry smile, the softest crease of her brow, timorous. she knew that. she did—really, she did—but she was not a wolf keen to the spotlight.

she does not meet his eyes as her claws flex into the dirt, peering down the cliffedge. long fall. she wondered—focus.

"why did you bring me here?"

he hums, low and thoughtful, the corners of his mouth twitching faintly in response to her wary tone. his eyes never leave her, patient but piercing, as if he's carefully weighing his words before offering them.
because i see you, twitch.
he steps closer, mindful of the distance she maintains, mindful not to crowd her. voice quiet now, steady.
you hide—but i still see.
the wind whispers sharply past, carrying the scent of new life, change.
everyone needs somewhere to start.

twitch goes still. her ears twitch at his words, her shoulders pulling just a fraction tighter, but she doesn’t look at him. she just keeps staring down the cliffside, down at the jagged teeth of rock and dirt below, letting the wind bite at her fur like little pinpricks against her skin.

because i see you, twitch. you hide—but still i see.

her claws dig deeper into soft soil, enough to feel it yield to her, squelching beneath her paws. her gut knots. she hates that. hates that.

“mm.” her response is barely a sound, just a vague noise at the back of her throat, rough and unsure. he steps closer. close enough.

she finally, finally looks at him. its a dead stare, uncomfortable but searching for meaning in his words before she breaks away again. “no need to be cryptic, y'know,” she mutters after a long pause.

tvar huffs, the sound low and amused, but there’s something knowing beneath it. he doesn’t press closer—doesn’t push—but he doesn’t step back either.
not being cryptic, he rumbles, voice even. his gaze lingers on her, unreadable, patient. just speaking plain.
the wind shifts, tugging at his fur. some things can’t be forced.

twitch scoffs, soft but sharp. “sure,” she says, dry as dust and utterly unbelieving. it is instinct, now, to take words with a grain of salt. she doesn't trust plain when they come dressed in something else, settling beneath her skin like an itch she can’t scratch. she decides not to challenge him on it, just keeps her eyes on the valley. 

the wind moves again, curling around them, and she breathes in deep before exhaling slow. her ear flicks, uncertain. "ameline wants me t' go to sapphique for some herbs. guess i'll start there, hm?"

good place to start, he says simply. not with force, not with flourish—just quiet approval. he doesn't mock her scoff. doesn't scold the disbelief. he recognizes it. he remembers it in himself. the way you brace for the blow before it ever comes.
he looks to the horizon where she stares, then back to her. you’ll be fine, twitch. more than fine.
a pause. then, more dryly:
and if you’re not, bring someone back with teeth.

she doesn’t answer right away, her eyes flickering to the horizon, where the mountains edge the sky in the distance, a sharp reminder of how far she’s come and how much further there is to go.

yeah, i guess i’ll manage, she mutters, voice rough but a little more grounded now. she exhales, low and steady, her shoulders easing under the weight of his words. there’s something to his calm certainty that makes her think it might be worth believing in, even if she isn’t sure she believes it for herself.

she glances back at him, the faintest of shrugs lifting her shoulders.

if i’m not fine, i’ll drag someone back with teeth, just like you said, she says with a half-smirk, the playful challenge in her voice offering just a hint of her old stubbornness.

but i'll be fine. probably. her eyes flicker over the valley again. just... don’t tell anyone if i’m not.