Bearclaw Valley the 48

Cole stopped a pace behind Quill, his golden gaze shifting between her and Ameline. The air carried an odd mixture of familiarity and curiosity, the warmth in their body language striking a contrast against the cool surroundings. He couldn’t help but arch a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he observed the reunion unfolding before him.

Guess you two know each other, he drawled, his tone laced with quiet amusement as he glanced at Quill, then back to Ameline. Didn’t think I’d be walking her into a reunion.

He stepped back slightly, allowing them space to reconnect. His gaze lingered for a moment on the gestures Quill used to greet Ameline—a language he didn’t understand but found fascinating nonetheless. She’s looking for a place, he added simply, his voice steady as his focus returned to Ameline. Figured Bearclaw Valley might be the right one.

Cole’s stance remained relaxed, though his expression carried an unspoken pride in the wolf he’d brought back to the valley. Quill wasn’t just another recruit—she had a history here, it seemed, and that carried weight.