Bramblepoint when the cold wind is a'calling

Trailing behind Arnarkla, Cole moved with a lazy but watchful stride, his eyes flicking between the surroundings and her—a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She had a way of walking as if she owned the land beneath her paws, yet today, a little clumsiness betrayed her ease. The sharp crack of a twig snapped him from his thoughts, and he glanced up to see her slumped on her haunches, fussing at her paw.

Hold on now, let me take a look, he murmured, stepping closer. The light played against her coat, accentuating the specks of dirt and dust that clung to her fur as she struggled with the thorn. With a gentle nudge of his nose, he urged her to sit still, offering a brief, encouraging nod as he lowered himself beside her, intent on prying the stubborn thing free. When it pulled, he consoled her the best he could with a nudge of his wet nose. Careful, now.

His gaze drifted past her momentarily, catching sight of a figure just beyond—another wolf, soft and golden, standing at the edge of the clearing. The way she watched them was curious, tentative. Cole straightened, casting a sidelong glance toward Arnarkla before turning his full attention to the stranger.

Morning, he greeted, his tone easy but wary. Don’t mean to startle ya. What brings ya out this way? He gave a short nod, a silent invitation for her to join them if she wished, but he left the choice up to her.