Bearclaw Valley god, i hope it all goes away

twitch padded cautiously along the narrow trail, the crisp wind biting at her nose. every rustle of the underbrush set her ears swiveling, sharp eyes scanning for movement.

she knew she wasn’t alone—she could smell somewhere nearby, perhaps tasked with ensuring she didn’t wander off into trouble. or they were just curious—either way, she tried not to dwell on it too long. pretending they weren't there was easier than confrontation, after all.

her breath came in quiet puffs of hoarfrost as she muttered to herself. she wasn't completely lost yet — only a little! it could certainly be worse, right? the path curved ahead, opening into a small glade where sunlight filtered through skeletal branches. she paused, tilting her head to listen to the faint gurgle of water in the distance.

assuming forward date to jan 24

She was lost.
The new recruit of Bearclaw wasn't lost on him, but he wasn't keen on making friends. @Tvar was enough for him. Too many new faces, too many attachments. He was a man fueled by his own accord, tainted by vengeance, swathed in the affections from Winslet that he didn't deserve.
She was a puny thing. Cole didn't know her name, and quite frankly, didn't care. But when you're lost, you're vulnerable. He'd tracked her here on the outskirts, wondering what exactly she'd been looking for.
He appeared. Newly scarred. Watch it, he scolded her as if she were a kid, spikes 'r over there.

twitch startled, her ears flicking backward as she turned toward the voice. she'd been counting on them not saying anything. guess she was thankful that he did. her head jerked toward the source of the sound, ears swiveling sharply as her gaze landed on him.

for a long moment, she doesn't say anything at all, eyes darted over him, assessing. he was freshly scarred. tall and dark, built like a bison. aged, though he hadn't lost much of the beauty she suspected he had in his earlier years. it isn't until he gives her an incredulous lift of the brow that she refocuses, ripping her head to where he indicated.

sure enough, jagged spikes of frost jutted from the earth, gleaming treacherously in the weak sunlight. her nose wrinkled. “uh- thanks,” she muttered, her voice quieter than intended. he was a towering compared to her, intimidating. she focused somewhere near his shoulder to distract herself.

she could feel his judgment like a cold draft just from the way he spoke, wrapping around her and pressing against her chest. “still getting used to the valley,” she offered, though it sounded more like a defense than a statement. jesus, you need to shut up for once.

twitch knew better than to expect warmth or understanding from strangers, especially ones like him. his stance was rigid, his expression unreadable. fortunately, she already looked fucking stupid so it couldn't really get any worse. "you the one who's been followin' me?"

She stopped in her tracks. Gaped at him. Why was she staring? Was he bleeding? But she quickly pulled herself together beneath his heated gaze, and hauled herself away from those damn spikes.
Loosely. He answered honestly. He wasn't fucking stalking her. He was simply wondering what a scent from a Bearclaw member was doing so far from the epicenter.
Too many attacks 'round here.
He moved to unveil the spikes that were hidden beneath the ground, crafted on by his own teeth.
Took it in'ta our own hands.

her mouth opened, a quick retort at the ready, but it faltered somewhere between her tongue and her throat before it shut again. better not to test him, she thought.

“oh.” her voice was quieter now, almost tentative. her gaze darted from the spikes he unearthed to his scarred face, head tilted like a puzzled or curious bird. "fer the coyotes?" less a question, more double checking just in case. nervous habit.

her paws shuffled slightly as she adjusted her stance. “s' clever.” she offered after a beat, looking back to the trap they'd set. “better than just hoping they’ll stay away.”

she recalls ameline's word from a few days ago—a girl named winslet and a man named cole getting into a fight with some of the vermin. was this him? looked like it, scars n' all. she tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes narrowing as she studied him. “you're.. cole?”

He admired the work that him and Tvar had done. Just ahead, out of sight, would be the coyote heads upon spiked lodgings, too. It would have to be enough— he was too far gone to keep giving a shit about them squirming about during their mating season.
He only hummed at her comments; he knew that it was a genius design, not a stupid man. The words from a young girl meant very little to him.
And then she said his name.
Curious, a brow raised. Yeah. How d'ya figure?

"ameline mentioned you. said you'd need help keeping the borders locked down." she replied, trying to gauge his reaction. "figured it fit you." a compliment, maybe.

after a beat, she added, “winslet’s name came up too. Is she—uh, is she okay? after the fight, I mean.” the words tumbled out quickly, and she regretted it. it wasn’t her place to pry, especially about someone she didn’t even know.

Ameline did that a lot. Talk about him. A part of him wished that she didn't— so menial interactions like these were avoided. He wasn't much of a talker, forget small talk, and now he was pinned with his greatest fears bludgeoning his shoulders.
Help? He echoed out of pure shock. A tsk left his mouth as he shook his head, hiding the spikes beneath their blanketed grounds.
Don't need the help of a kid, who— he glanced around her, doesn't know where the fuck she is.
About to turn and leave her there, lost and bewildered, it was Winslet's name that had him stopping. Turning back, he grunted. 's none of your goddamn business, kid.
A sore spot. A reckoning of his failure— did Ameline seek to tell every soul that he had so happened to fail at protecting their women?
I'm goin' to do a border sweep. An invitation, so long as she could keep up.

he snaps as quickly as she gets the word out. she recoiled instinctively, like a bird that had flown too close to a storm. the sudden shift in his demeanor was well deserved, she had been self-aware but far too nosy in the face of a stranger, even if the reaction startled her.

her ears flattened against her skull, eyes darting to the ground, heart leapt into her throat as if she was bracing for impact. she could feel blood rushing in her ears, each word a little more stifling than the last.

her eyes flicked up, only to meet the ground again, the corners of her mouth pulled into a tight line. awkward. don't say anything else.

when he spoke again, the shift wasn’t much kinder—still blunt, but something else lingered in the tension. the mention of winslet was a sore spot. for a moment, she thought maybe—maybe there was something beneath the gruff exterior. it vanished as soon as it appeared.

a border sweep. she could do that. she nodded quietly, her chest tightening. part of her wanted to make herself scarce, leave the interaction where it was before she made it any worse, but no, she couldn’t. at the very least, it would be good to walk the borders and familiarize herself with someone there to stop her from falling into a trap.

Cole kept his stride steady and his words few, his sharp gaze sweeping the edges of the territory as Vanja trailed beside him. He didn’t say much, offering only the occasional grunt or clipped instruction to stay close. His focus remained on the land, on the scents and signs left behind, ensuring nothing out of the ordinary lingered too close to their claim.
As they approached a cluster of dens nestled into the hollow of the valley, he slowed, tilting his head toward the earthen mounds. Dens, he muttered, his voice low but firm—a simple explanation that carried the weight of his responsibility.
He lingered just long enough to let the young recruit take it in before moving on, his posture straight and unyielding as he continued their patrol. There wasn’t much else to say—not yet, anyway. She’d learn more by watching and walking than by anything he could tell her.