Whitefish River pixels

The movement is what causes the bear to begin stirring. Content the Count had been to snooze away the morning even when patrol duties call to him. Here he is comfortable, warm and with his favorite person. The kiss to his cheek causes him to pinch his eyebrows softly before they relax, a dopey grin forming across sleepy lips. The murmur barely catches, but with the quiet and only the chirping of birds to interrupt, the bear nonetheless hears the soft confession. I love you, he echoes, opening mismatched green eyes—obviously half-asleep.