Bearclaw Valley and i hit the ground running

two new broods joined the valley this past week, and nephele had made herself busy with gathering items to gift to each of the couples. each of the mothers had a loving partner to support them through this time, but even with the assistance of dutiful husbands, the stormcloud knew of the stress and exhaustion that came with a new litter.

she had been gathering a small collection of gifts for each new mother. the gifts were carefully separated to two piles, wrapped neatly in dried furs and tucked away for later. there was still one gift she had yet to aquire, and had set off through the valley in search of it.

with any luck, she might have the bundles finished and delivered to each mother by sunset.

Cole had been keeping his distance. Not out of malice, not out of cruelty—just necessity. Or maybe that was a lie. Maybe it was cowardice.
He wasn't sure what to say to her, not after the way things had settled. Nephele had opened her heart to him, and he had walked away. He had chosen Winslet. And yet here she was, moving with purpose, arms full with the weight of her own kindness.
It was in his nature to step forward, to be of use. To stand there like a stone in the river while she worked—he couldn’t do that, not with the way his gut twisted at the sight of her.
His throat tightened as he cleared it. Do ‘ya… He paused, shifting his weight. Want, uh, help with those?
It was all he could offer. A bridge that wasn’t quite mended, a quiet gesture that wouldn’t fix anything but might, at the very least, remind her that he still cared. Even if it was from a distance.

SWOOPS

<3!!

she sees him in the distance and half expects him to turn the other way. hell, she expected herself to do the same. but neither alter their course and in the next moment he is offering his help.

her lips pressed to a thin line as she catches herself having to bite her tongue. if she'd been younger she would have wasted no time in turning her back on him and casting him aside. she would pretended not to hear him, would have kept on walking without any hesitancy. but she'd changed, she'd matured, and no matter how she looked at it she couldn't go the rest of her life pretending cole no longer existed.

they lived in the same valley and were going to have to face the music at some point. and so it was with a quiet, "sure," that she accepted his offer before stepping off to the side to make room for him to join her.

Cole stepped forward, his movements steady, deliberate. He did not hesitate as he lowered himself beside her, shoulders squared but posture loose, as if he hadn't spent days—weeks—avoiding this moment.
His eyes flickered over the items she had gathered, hands moving instinctively to help organize them. There was a careful precision to the way he worked, the same methodical nature he applied to everything, but his jaw was set, tension brimming beneath the surface.
He didn’t say anything at first. He simply moved alongside her, matching her pace, adjusting items as needed. It was a quiet truce, one he hadn't expected to find himself settling into so easily.
Eventually, he cleared his throat. "You've been busy, he remarked, his voice steady but lacking its usual gruffness. A statement, not a question. His paws brushed against the edges of a neatly folded fur, and he took a breath before adding, Good of you to do this.
A pause.
Then, because the silence stretched too long, too thick between them, he glanced sideways at her. How have you been? The words were simple, but the weight behind them was not.

she'd accepted his offer and worked beside him in silence, but not once did she ever truly look upon him. she found her gaze drifting to his paws as he worked, but that was as much of him she stole before pulling herself back to her own work.

gentle nudges were given to each of the gathered trinkets as she continued to organized them. words left his mouth, but all she ushered forth were quite mumbles of "mhmm," to keep the conversation going. what was she supposed to say? what if she said the wrong thing? better then to say nothing at all.

but he had to go and ask the question, didn't he? she paused, a heavy stare burning a hole into the ground beneath her as she went over all she'd felt these past few weeks. but when she finally brought herself to look him in the eye, to truly acknowledge him, the only words that left her mouth were lies.

"i've been good," she said, because she would not, could not, bring herself to share her burdens with him anymore. "and you?" she asked, if only because it seemed polite to do so.

Cole worked beside her, the weight of unspoken words pressing thick between them. He did not steal glances, did not reach to ease the space that had formed, knowing well enough that it was of his own making.
But when she finally looked at him—really looked—his breath hitched, just for a moment.
I’ve been good, she said. A simple answer. A polite lie. He recognized it because it was the same thing he would have said.
His jaw tightened, and he nodded, glancing down at his paws as he continued to help organize. Good. It’s been good. The words felt empty, but he said them anyway. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight, then nodded toward the carefully gathered gifts. It’s a… nice gesture.
His voice lacked the usual gruffness, the tension in it unmistakable. He could feel it, the way she avoided truly seeing him, the way she only gave him the barest threads of conversation. It was what he deserved, he knew that. And still—
He swallowed, the weight of what he’d done, what he’d chosen, pressing against him like a heavy stone. He could keep up the pleasantries. Keep the wall built between them. Or—
Listen— His voice wavered, and he hated that it did. He exhaled sharply through his nose, gathering himself, then tried again.
I— His throat worked around the words, his paws curling against the fur bundle at his side.
I’m sorry.
It left him rough, almost like a growl, but there was no anger in it. Only regret. Only the acknowledgment of something broken between them, something he could never quite put back the way it was.