Bearclaw Valley mollyrock

The gunner moved with a steady limp, his steps measured against the ache that radiated from his shoulder. The encounter with that damned dog was still fresh in his mind, her teeth leaving more than just marks on his flesh. The blood—hers—still lingered in his mouth, its metallic tang a bitter reminder.

His amber eyes scanned the rocky outlook ahead, where he spotted @Tvar's familiar silhouette perched against the horizon. The northerner sat with a reverence.

With a grunt, Cole made his way over, lowering himself to sit beside the other man. The stones beneath him shifted slightly, their sharp edges digging into his flank, but he welcomed the grounding sensation. Turning his head, he spat a glob of blood onto the ground, the deep red marring the stark gray of the rocks.

Some fuckin' day, he muttered, his voice carrying the edge of both fatigue and wry humor as he settled in. Amber eyes flicked to Tvar, watching the northerner's expression, waiting to see if he'd even acknowledge the mess Cole had dragged with him.

tvar’s ears flick toward the sound of approaching steps, his sharp gaze turning from the horizon to the familiar figure of cole as the man settled beside him. the northerner’s expression remains stoic, his blue eyes briefly scanning the bloodied mess that his companion had become. though he doesn’t speak immediately, there’s a flicker of acknowledgment in the way his brow twitches, the faintest sign of concern tucked behind his guarded demeanor.

aye, some day, he finally replies, his voice low and steady, the northern accent soft but unyielding, like the steady crash of distant waves. his eyes linger on the glob of blood cole spat onto the rocks, then flick back to the man himself, taking in the tension in his frame, the way he favored one side.

what’d you tangle with this time?

Cole let out a low chuckle, though the sound was dry and humorless, edged with the kind of irritation that had been brewing for days. He leaned back slightly, wincing as his weight shifted against the tender wounds along his flank.

Some bitch with a collar, he said, his voice rough, carrying that ever-present southern drawl. Came sniffin' around the borders like she owned the place. Took a bite outta her, 'course.

He rubbed at the edge of his muzzle with a paw, eyes narrowing as he spat another glob of blood onto the rocks. Then @Rala shows up. Got between us—said the woman’s her friend.

Cole snorted, shaking his head. Friend or not, she’s got no damn business here. That collar tells me she’s trouble, but Rala? She ain’t listenin’. Got in the way, claimed it wasn’t a fight worth finishing. His gaze turned to Tvar, his amber eyes sharp. What’d you think ‘bout that?

tag for mention

i respect rala, tvar huffs, though his voice grows colder, sharper, as if carving away any sentimentality. but respect doesn’t mean i’ll let her endanger us. if this woman’s as much trouble as you say, then she shouldn’t have made it past the borders. friend or not.

he exhales sharply, the plume of his breath curling in the cold air as his ears tilt forward, keenly focused. his muscles shift beneath his thick coat, coiled and ready, his mind running through the possibilities—the threat that could follow a collared wolf, the consequences of letting their guard down for sentiment.

if she comes back, he says, his voice dropping an octave, rumbling like distant thunder, we don’t let her linger. rala can vouch for her all she likes, but we’re not in the business of risking our pack over someone else’s past. there’s a flicker of something—frustration, perhaps, or just the weariness of knowing that the choices they make now will ripple out far beyond this moment. tvar turns his head slightly, his sharp gaze narrowing as it fixes on cole again.

we’ve got women to protect, tvar says, his voice steady but carrying a hardened edge. pups soon, too. can’t have... he pauses, his lip curling faintly in distaste, crazy bitches wandering about.

Cole let out a low chuckle, dry and humorless, his gaze fixed on the horizon for a beat before turning back to Tvar.

Ain’t no fuckin' room for it, he drawled, a faint shake of his head accompanying the words. Don't know where she came from, but this ain't some fuckin' commune. Not e'eryone is in fairy land.

He shifted his weight, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly as he glanced at Tvar again, his amber eyes sharper now, curious. What about you? he asked, his tone casual, though there was a hint of something deeper beneath. Anyone caught your eye?

There was no judgment in his voice, just a quiet interest, the kind that came from one man to another in a place where bonds were forged not just through blood, but through trust and shared trials. Cole’s gaze lingered for a moment longer before flicking back to the trees, ever watchful.

tvar huffs softly as if cole's question hasn’t caught him off guard. his eyes shift to the horizon, narrowing slightly against the stark light that cuts through the trees. there’s a moment where he doesn’t respond, instead buried in silence. i wouldn’t say i’ve been blind, he shrugs, then his eyes drop to the ground. thoughts of rala surface, but they're quickly dispelled. she had made her choice. but it didn't go anywhere. so that was that.

there’s a flicker of something—humor, maybe, or something far more complicated—that plays across his expression.

he pauses, his jaw tightening briefly as he exhales, his breath curling like smoke into the cold air. truth is, i’m not sure i’ve got the right to look at anyone that way. not yet. not when i’m still trying to figure out what kind of man i am.

Cole listened quietly, his amber eyes fixed on Tvar, reading the subtle shifts in his expression. The man’s words struck a chord, resonating with thoughts Cole had turned over in his own mind more times than he cared to admit.

Yeah, he finally said, his voice a low rumble. I think the same sometimes. Hard to even think about settlin' down when you’re still tryna sort yourself out. He paused, his gaze drifting toward the treeline as if the horizon might offer some clarity.

Guess it’s like tryin' to build a house without layin' a foundation first. He let out a dry chuckle, the sound heavy with self-awareness. Ain’t much sense in it, is there?