Bearclaw Valley Warm for the winter

A sense of normalcy beginning to return to Milan, she had begun to fulfil the task of filling each wolf's den with warm, expertly prepared pelts for the winter. Of course nobody had asked her to, but she liked to keep busy.

She paid little attention to who lived in each den she visited, for it did not matter - she would give every den the same proper care. Bringing along the pelts of various animals, likely from Cole's hunting given she had asked for his assistance, she crawled into the first empty den she found to begin laying them out.

Lightly her tail swayed behind her. She thought this would be quite the pleasant surprise for her packmates.

Tvar stopped mid-step as realization struck—the den she worked in was his. His sharp blue eyes flicked to the pelts she was laying out, their arrangement meticulous, the faint scent of her careful work mingling with the more familiar musk of his space.

He stood in the entrance for a moment longer, silent, watching her tail sway lightly as she worked.

He spoke finally in efforts to break the silence, and announce his arrival home! “Comfortable?” he asked finally, his tone carrying the faintest edge of dry amusement. “I wasn’t expecting company,” Tvar added. He didn’t sound annoyed, only curious. “You’ve made yourself at home.”

He stayed where he was, his posture relaxed, waiting for her to explain herself. While it wasn’t unwelcome, it was unusual—perhaps Tvar had a hard time accepting good will.

A voice rung out, and Milan's ears flicked towards the den's owner. Meek as always, she felt herself flush at his words — her posture reflecting such feelings.

It's to keep you warm for the winter. She offered an explanation, looking back. I'm doing it for everyone, I thought it would be a nice surprise. Her words came with a soft smile.

She had yet to meet this man, so she supposed he must be a new member. She couldn't help but wonder if there were any other unfamiliar faces around.

“I see,” he said evenly, his tone carrying no trace of displeasure, though his expression remained unreadable. His gaze shifted briefly to the carefully arranged pelts in his den. “Thoughtful of you.”

He stepped fully into the den, his broad frame moving with quiet purpose, though he kept a comfortable distance from her. “I’m Tvar,” he offered simply, his voice steady, a formality meant to acknowledge the introduction she hadn’t given yet. “I’ve only been here a short time.”

His gaze returned to her, studying her for a beat. “You got a name?” he asked, recalling her scent among the pack’s markers.

For a moment she only blinked as he spoke. Her paws shifted below her in an effort to aid her discomfort. Milana. She returned the introduction in light of his question. I'm Bearclaws Visor. It was still odd to say, yet satisfying to know that she had found herself a role.

I can be on my way if I'm intruding - I was nearly done, really. She wouldn't want to interrupt any potential naps after all, that could be quite the pain for him.

Briefly she glanced to the exit behind him - a force of habit.

He stepped aside slightly, giving her a clearer path to the exit should she choose to leave. “You’ve done your part,” he said, his gaze briefly flicking to the neatly arranged pelts before returning to her. “I wouldn’t call that an interruption.”

Tvar’s tone softened slightly, though it carried the same steady cadence as before. “If anything, you’ve done more than most would think to do.” He paused, his blue eyes meeting hers for a moment. “No need to rush off unless you’ve somewhere better to be.”

With that, he ducked his head and waltzed into his newly furnished home. "And, Milan." He cast her a glance. "Nice to meet you."

He invited her to stay, and Milan found that her nerves settled - a bit at least. Well, I'm in no rush. She decided, allowing him to meet her gaze.

Is there something you'd like to talk about? She asked with the slight tilt of her head. It's my job to know each member after all. If she didn't, how could she properly support them?

She was interested, too - though every stranger was at least a bit interesting once she got past the scary part.

he shifted slightly, the movement casual, though there was a quiet thoughtfulness to the way he regarded her. "there’s not much to tell," he admitted after a pause.

"i’m here to serve the pack. to pull my weight." his gaze moved briefly toward the trees in the distance, as if the answer were out there somewhere, before returning to her.

he leans down to settle, tucking paws against his plush chest. humming lightly as his gaze sweeps the woman.

She sits herself down as he settles, regarding him with the slight tilt of her head. There must be something. She decides. Nobody truly comes from nothing, after all.

Before Bearclaw, where did you come from? She asks, tail wrapping around herself. It's a simply question, one intended to make him a bit more comfortable.

The place which a wolf comes from is always rather important, whether for the good or bad reasons. Milan knows that all too well.

tvar hums softly, the sound low and thoughtful as his gaze shifts away again, catching briefly on the snow-laden treetops. he’s quiet for a moment, considering her question. not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he doesn’t often voice it.

the north, he begins simply, his words steady but carrying a weight beneath their simplicity. he doesn’t look at her immediately, his blue eyes still fixed somewhere in the distance, as if picturing a place long gone. a cold land. harsher than here. endless snow and mountains that scrape the sky. my family’s land.

his gaze returns to her now, sharp but not unkind, as if testing the waters of her curiosity. we lived as most do—hunters, guardians. my father was a proud man. strict, but fair. my mother... she was our strength. kept us together, even when the winters bit deep. there’s a faint flicker of something in his eyes, perhaps longing, perhaps something darker, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears.

but that was a long time ago, he huffs. his legs resettle as he shifts upon his large weight, eager to quickly change subjects. tvar isn't keen on talking about himself. and you? where did you come from?

Ears twitch lightly as she listens. Milan has never seen such sights before; it is difficult for her to picture. She understands the look in his eyes, but it seems that he does not wish to speak of it further right now.

My father's commune. She responds to his question, tail wrapping around herself. It is an uncomfortable bundle of memories now. Not too far - just north in the Canadian Plains. She misses it at times, but certainly not the people. A part of her does wonder about her mother and cousins, though.

It was for her own good to leave when she did.

But, Bearclaw is a fresh start for both of us it seems. A slight smile is offered with her statement. For the better, maybe.