Bearclaw Valley cursed to hold a weight you cannot bare

steep walls surround the valley on all sides but this narrow passage, and newt stares at it, imperial gaze sizing it up, sizing up the snow that blankets the earth, the boulders, rocks and dusts the conifers whose limbs bow with the weight of the snow from the heavy snowfall recently. it doesn't outwardly appear treacherous but he knows looks can easily be deceiving. there is a flutter in his chest then; apprehension. his ears feather back against the strong curve of his skull —

but there is fresh raccoon scents leading into the valley thru this passage and if there are raccoons it's a safe assumption to make that there will be other small woodland creatures there, especially given the lack of pack scents. he is a provider, a guardian and watcher of hearth and home ...that was not without its risks. steeling his shoulders, he begins to trudge through the snow, finding it deeper in some places than in others.

it is only when he steps into the valley that yawns before him, protected by the steep rock walls that he releases the breath he had been unknowingly holding. though he considers looking back at the passage; he resists. instead, he follows the raccoon scent trail eager to find his quarry once more.