Whitefish River I'll lift you up again

Scrunching his nose, the bear struggles to resist searching over Winterbourne for possible issues, like an injury that he missed earlier. That requires moving, however, and he isn’t quite ready to do that at the moment. His sleepy mind says he should just curl back up and snooze. Alas, worry wins out and he blinks blearily at the silver man, unaware of how strange their circumstances may seem. Ears twitch at the sound of his gravelly voice; harder for Eve to understand now that he isn’t able to focus a hundred percent on it. But he catches the greeting easy enough, and it seems that whatever worries the bear has fade with it. “Hi,” he greets with a sleepy smile, his cheeks round and his eyes closing just a tad—relaxed again. A yawn suddenly forces his jaws apart, and the bear stretches his forearms forward—the one he tucked close to his chest sticking straight above Winterbourne’s pack, toes flexing. “Sleep well?”