Bearclaw Valley cursed to hold a weight you cannot bare

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the valley that yawns out before him as he begins to head towards the woodland, the sound of fresh water detected among the chirrups of squirrels and calls of birds, is surprisingly hale. it would be foolish to think that this sanctuary — tucked away next door this whole time! — would harbor large game and yet the hope for it blooms readily within newt's chest all the same. still, he keeps to the fresh raccoon tracks, biting back the small snicker of laughter that threatens to escape his throat as he sees the deeper parts of snow where the little beast has, clearly, struggled and waddled in it.

he has to oft remember that he, west ( probably clay ), and greyback were colossal beasts that likely push the size limits of their species. it shows in how gaunt valette has allowed herself to get so that she could provide for them; and these thoughts ...they only ignite the spark of the hunt within newt.

his singular revere, however; is broken by the sound of voices nearby. steps cease abruptly and his head swings in their direction. they hadn't called out to him but newt suspects that he hasn't gone unnoticed. it is almost tell-tale in the way the adult stares at him, and from behind him with lowered head stands a youth about his own age. it's almost comical, to see a near full grown youth standing behind the pale male like he would as a small child.

the staring, though, soon begins to fill newt with the feeling like he was taking part in a showdown at sunset. uh, hey. he eventually greets, tail giving a neutral wave to show that he isn't interested in being aggressive with them. you two travellers? he inquires lightky, trying to get a feel on whether they were just passing thru or if they were here for something more permanent.