Firefly Glen time well met,

Cole dipped his head with a quick, quiet nod, casting a sidelong glance at Arnarkla as if gauging her thoughts. Ancelin's a good man, from what little I seen, he said, the words simple but sincere. The man struck him as sturdy—a fitting piece in a place with this much promise.

He fell in line with Ameline, moving with a steady, easy pace, watching Arnarkla out of the corner of his eye. The Valley offered something close to a second chance, a thought that carried just enough weight to linger on as he walked beside her, silently hopeful.

Cole's gaze drifted briefly over the valley’s horizon, then back to Arnarkla, the edges of his mouth lifting in a small, unreadable smirk. He could already feel the tug of the valley settling into him, grounding him in a way he hadn’t expected. The place had a promise he could respect, and the pack seemed solid, a rare blend of grit and ease. Even from his short time here, he felt the strength of it, and part of him wondered if it was what Arnarkla needed too.

He trod alongside her, taking note of the steady strength in her steps. The thought that they might both be looking for something familiar yet new lingered as he spoke quietly, almost to himself, A place worth callin’ home, maybe. And for a moment, there was a warmth in his voice that didn’t often make its way to the surface.