Bearclaw Valley just have the strength to know you're wrong,

the same tiredness that weighted indra into surrendering, plagued stigmata like an old wound impeding him from progression. his shoulders fell, for despite all appearances of a dark resignation, it wouldn't have been easy for him to accept dismissal from the redleaf— his pride would've been too wounded— and it was all he could do not to sigh in front of her as the burden of uncertainty suddenly left him.

relief aside, he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing he had been worried of her choice.

"then i am yours," he reminded her firmly; quiet enough to be a whisper. "do not forget it." and he left her there, banishing himself to some corner of the wood where he could sort out his over-boiled emotions in peace.