Blackfoot Forest Wanderin'

The cold bit at his pads, a dull, aching reminder of the miles he’d crossed. Frost clung to the black of his fur like brittle armor, and his breath rose in ghostly plumes as he pushed forward. Snow hung heavy on the low-hanging branches, brushing against his sides as he maneuvered through the brush.

Tvar paused, his vivid blue eyes narrowing as he scanned the misty expanse ahead. The quiet wasn’t comforting—it brought a prickle to the man's hide.

He wasn’t sure what he was searching for, only that stopping wasn’t an option.

With a grunt that billowed visible breath from his nostrils, Tvar lowered his head and pushed forward again, the fog swallowing him whole as he disappeared into the wintry maze.

The bite of the cold air was sharp against Cole’s muzzle, but it wasn’t enough to deter his steps. His amber eyes scanned the snow-draped woods as he moved, the rhythm of his gait steady but purposeful. He was hunting for signs—not for prey, but for presence. The faintest trace of another soul.

The wind shifted, and with it came the thick, unmistakable scent of a male. It was strong, recent, carrying with it the weight of distance traveled and dominance etched into every step.

Cole paused, his breath misting around him as his nose twitched. His ears tilted forward, and his muscles coiled slightly as his gaze swept the woods ahead.

With deliberate movements, he adjusted his course, heading toward the source of the scent with the cautious intent of a wolf unafraid of confrontation, but wise enough to anticipate it.

Tvar’s pace slowed as his nose caught the faintest shift in the air.

It wasn’t the usual musk of deer or hare—it was that of another male. A shadow in the woods. The kind that demanded attention. Tvar's blues narrowed, sharp and searching, as his ears tilted forward and then backwards again, faint against the back of his head.

He stopped, his breath visible in slow, steady bursts as he lifted his head, scenting again. The trail was close, fresh. His legs shifted, the faint ache in his feet momentarily forgotten as instinct overruled exhaustion.

Tvar moved forward, breaking the snow’s surface with each pawstep an audible crunch. He didn’t slow as the scent grew stronger, more vivid in his nostrils.

Against his better judgement, his jaw unclenched. "Hello?"

Cole’s gaze locked onto the approaching figure, a wolf cloaked in the deep, inky hues of night. There was an air about him—tall, sharp, commanding—that set him apart. The kind of presence that could either fill a room or smother it. Cole raised a brow, his expression unwavering, as the other wolf’s voice cut through the cold.

Hello, Cole replied, his tone measured and distant, the word clipped as if weighed carefully.

His dark eyes ran a quick but thorough scan of the man before him, cataloging every detail with a calculated edge. The snow crunched beneath his own paws as he shifted his weight slightly, standing firm, though his posture remained neutral.

You’re out early, Cole observed, his words holding no warmth but no hostility either. Looking for something?

Tvar blinked, his piercing blue eyes clouded for a moment as he looked around, his gaze drifting to the frost-covered branches and the mist that clung to the ground like a second skin. He let out a low, awkward chuckle, the sound more self-deprecating than amused.

“I'm not sure yet,” he admitted, his voice softer now, touched with something almost sheepish. His ears flicked back briefly before settling upright again. “Truth is... I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Or why.”

He paused, the faintest sigh escaping him as his gaze dropped to the snow for a fleeting second before meeting Cole’s again. “I can't remember anything,” he confessed, his tone quieter but steady. “Not where I came from. Not even my name—at least, not the one I’m supposed to have.”

The embarrassment lingered in the faint huff of laughter that followed, though his stance remained firm. “I must sound insane, wandering out here like this. But... here I am.”

There was no plea in his words, no desperation for understanding, only a quiet, raw honesty as Tvar’s gaze held Cole’s, his expression a mix of curiosity and caution. “And you? You seem like you’ve got a better grip on things than I do.”

Cole huffed a low laugh, the sound rough and edged with his southern drawl. Shit, he drawled, shaking his head slowly as his amber eyes appraised the man before him. Ain't that a burden. There was no mockery in his tone, only a plain acknowledgment of the weight that such an admission carried.

Bearclaw Valley, he said simply, introducing himself by way of his home. His stance was loose, casual, but there was a steady strength in the way he carried himself, a quiet confidence that spoke of a man who knew his place in the world. We’re tucked back a ways—good folk, solid ground. You wouldn’t forget it if you came through.

Cole let his gaze linger on the man for a beat longer, searching for something beneath the surface of those ice-blue eyes. Ain’t much crazier than most folks out here, he added, his tone lighter now, almost teasing. Reckon you’ll figure it out. Takes time, though.

His tail flicked behind him, a subtle motion as he tilted his head slightly. You thinkin’ of stickin’ around here, or just passin’ through?

Tvar blinked at Cole’s reaction, his ears twitching slightly at the low huff of laughter. For a moment, his sharp features softened, and his mouth pulled into a faint, sheepish smile. “It’s... a lot, I suppose,” he admitted, his tone carrying a note of dry humor. “But what can I say? I seem to be full of surprises—mostly for myself.”

He let the quiet linger for a beat, then shook his head lightly, brushing a few snowflakes from his fur. “I suppose staying or going depends on what I find,” he continued, his voice composed but tinged with honesty. “I’ve been walking for so long now, I’m not even sure I’d know what it means to stop.”

Tvar exhaled softly, the mist of his breath curling in the cold air. “For now, I suppose I’m just... here,” he said, a flicker of something unspoken passing through his expression. “Figuring out what that means might take a little longer.”

He looked to the other brute then, eyeballing the man as if sizing him up. He was strong, hardy. Tvar couldn't help the small twinge of curiosity about this man, and this Bearclaw Valley he mentioned. "If I don't know who I am, I guess that means I should start over. You can call me Tvar."

Cole nodded, the easy roll of his shoulders carrying an air of unshakable composure. Cole, he offered in return, his voice warm but measured. Good to meet you, Tvar.

His amber gaze lingered for a moment, sizing up the man before him. There was a guardedness in Tvar’s words, but something about his honesty rang true—grounded, if not a little lost. Cole respected that.

You’re not wrong, he said after a beat, his drawl wrapping around the words like a slow current. Walkin’ long enough, you start wonderin’ what it feels like to stand still. Ain’t always easy, though. Some places just stick to you, make you want to stop.

He glanced past Tvar, out toward the distant horizon where the mist began to break. Bearclaw’s like that. Solid ground, good folks. Ain’t a bad place to start over if you’re lookin’ to. His words were casual, but the invitation lingered beneath the surface, unspoken but present.

So, Tvar, Cole drawled, turning his gaze back to the man with a hint of curiosity in his expression. What are you hopin’ to find out here? Just answers, or somethin’ more?

Tvar inclined his head slightly at the introduction, his posture easing though his bearing remained composed. “And you, Cole,” he replied, his tone precise but softened by a hint of warmth.

As Cole spoke, Tvar’s blue eyes lingered on him, sharp but attentive. There was something steady in the way Cole carried himself, an unspoken strength that reminded Tvar of the certainty he’d once known—whatever that had been. His lips quirked faintly at the mention of places that made you stop, though the gesture didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I imagine places like that are rare,” Tvar said after a pause, his voice thoughtful. “Where the ground feels... permanent. Worth standing on.”

He shifted slightly, his gaze following Cole’s toward the horizon, where the mist began to thin. There was a flicker of something in his expression—longing, perhaps, or just exhaustion—but it vanished as quickly as it came.

At Cole’s question, Tvar turned back to him, his jaw tightening briefly as he considered his words. “Answers would be a start,” he admitted. "Though, I doubt I'll find them. I can't help but feel that's a good thing." His expression turned sour, then.

Cole let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and gravelly as it carried through the chill air. He gave Tvar a sidelong glance, his amber eyes glinting with a hint of amusement. You’ve got a way of puttin’ things, he said, his tone light but laced with sincerity. Rare’s one word for it. Damn near unheard of might be better.

He shifted his weight, the frost crunching softly beneath his paw. Tvar’s honesty—his mix of humor and introspection—wasn’t something Cole encountered often, and he found himself appreciating it more than he’d expected. Answers ain’t all they’re cracked up to be, y’know, Cole added after a moment, his voice carrying a dry edge. Sometimes the not knowing... that’s the thing that keeps you movin’.

His gaze flicked back to Tvar, his brow arching slightly. But I reckon you already figured that out.

Tvar huffed softly, his breath rising in the cold air. “Not knowing keeps you moving,” he said, echoing Cole’s words, though his tone carried a quiet edge of exhaustion. “But I will say, aimless wandering loses its charm after a while.”

He raised a paw, revealing his sore paw pads.

He shifted his weight, the crunch of snow under his paws breaking the silence for a moment. His sharp blue eyes fixed on Cole, studying him with a faint glint of curiosity. “So, Bearclaw Valley.” He paused, his head tilting slightly. “It sounded... like something worth moving toward.”

Tvar’s gaze flicked toward the misty horizon, as though imagining the place Cole had described. When he spoke again, his tone was casual, but there was a clear intent beneath it. “Is that where you’re headed now?” He hesitated briefly, then added, almost as an afterthought,

“I think I’ve walked far enough alone.”

Cole nodded, his expression steady as he regarded Tvar. Bearclaw Valley, he confirmed, the faintest trace of pride threading through his tone. Good place to land your feet if you’re tired of wandering. Plenty of folks, steady ground. It’s...solid.

His gaze flicked to Tvar’s worn paw pads, then back to his sharp blue eyes. Ameline leads us. You’ll like her, I think. A pause, and then he added with a faint smirk, If you’re lookin’ to find a place, she’s the one to talk to.

Cole turned slightly, motioning with his muzzle toward the direction of the valley. Come on, then. Reckon you’ve walked alone long enough. Without another word, he began to move, his stride easy but purposeful, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure Tvar followed.

When Cole motioned toward the valley, Tvar hesitated for only a heartbeat before stepping forward, his stride smoothing as he fell in behind him.

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” he said, his tone lighter now, though a hint of guardedness remained. His gaze flicked to the horizon where the mist began to part, and for the first time in what felt like ages, the path ahead didn’t feel quite so aimless.

“Lead the way,” Tvar said simply, the weight of his words carrying more meaning than he let on.