Bearclaw Valley Accepting limits

the morning carries with it a chill that settles like a thousand tiny icicles needling beneath towhee jr's fur. a soft shiver slides along her spine as ghost takes flight from his favorite perch betwixt her shoulders; scouting recon. a glimpse is spared to him before she stretches and sets herself into motion, eager to begin patrolling.

settling in is easy for jr; easier because she's travelled most of her life. her intention hadn't been to become nomadic, flitting from pack to pack ... but it always ends up being the path she takes anyway.

perhaps she was more similar to her mother than just being her twin.

the thought brings with it a soft, affectionate smile; there and gone as quickly as it came.

ghost circles as they near a packmate, settling back upon his favored perch betwixt the junction of her shoulders. he nips at his favored ear, already notched from his persistence. jr's gaze falls upon the man, a soft, breathy chuff of greeting leaving her lips. she can't hear it, of course, but she can feel the vibration in her throat. her steps slow, leaving distance between them — ready to depart if her company is unwelcome.