Bearclaw Valley you got melted to butter

The golden light hits the side of his face and turns the fur there into burning white filaments. The dust motes shiver in the beam. Taylor steps forwards, and they move alongside him.
Evien is right, and that's what kills him. He breathes. It is a muffled and dry noise, like sniffing through a fist. They stand there, one boy on the floor, ragdoll-ish and spent, the other boy standing, awkward, his mind in a simmer. His first taste of empathy in months. He remembers why he had decided so long ago not to feel. It was much easier that way.
Just... he pauses, fights to find the words he needs. He'd never been good at this. Let me exist next to you for a bit. What's left of his frustration is quickly evaporating— he's just tired now, tired and confused, barely even able to keep up with what's coming out of his mouth and what's coming and going in his head.
His steps eat up the distance between them in neat, mincing bites. He's close now, close enough to reach out and touch the curly brown hair.