Neverwinter Forest and his throat burns from the screaming

"does it?" wintersbane snickers softly with light skepticism coloring his tone. he agrees to disagree with her on that. usually, the rare times he made his way to the beach he often found himself bathing off sand at least a week (and several baths ) afterwards. but he's biased in his intense dislike of sand and the sticky feeling the sea brine is inclined to leave on fur and flesh. a few beats of silence pass between them before blackbear speaks again. her offer draws an expression of surprise to the plains of his face. ears cup forth and then taper back as he deliberates. glacial gaze slides over her once more, determining that she has no ill intentions. the maned tundrian lifts his chin ever-so-slightly drawing in a breath as if he's about to give a verbal response. he doesn't. instead, he cautiously moves towards her, closing the distance. it's a slow and perhaps tentative show of trust, but there is a uniformness to his movements and the way he comes to stand before her that suggests he's still a bit uncertain. when you're as good at creating enemies as he undoubtedly is, the extra caution might seem excessive but could end up being the difference between life and death for him.