Bitterroot Valley you give out the glory of heaven, you give out the pain that is hell.

He stopped and started her heart all at once. A rush of life through her as she faced his wild look and feverish teeth. The vibration of his snarl seeped into her bones. Exhilarated her in a way she could not describe. But the temper is a flash in the pan, died with his recognition of her. It emboldened her.

She would seek to find the safety in his larger size, her runty frame not once coming close to his own monolith of being. Press herself firmly into him before she mumbled. Sorry. Not entirely, but she knew she had startled him. Had perhaps ruined whatever he had been busying himself with.

There was still a feverish feeling in her core, her heart hardly having recovered from it all. She offered a hearty rumble to him (a rare sound from her, without doubt) then aimed for teeth to grab the plush fur of his chest. Teach me fight. Her own language is broken more often than not these days, said only what he might understand from her. She needn't anyone else's understanding.