Bearclaw Valley Accepting limits

The soft noise she made reached his ears, though it was faint, almost uncertain.

It wasn’t until she raised her paws, gesturing deliberately, that understanding began to dawn. The motions were clear enough—ear, throat, mouth, followed by a shake of her head—and Tvar’s brow furrowed slightly as the meaning sank in. She couldn't hear, speak.

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, not out of pity but contemplation.

Tvar gave a small nod, his expression softening just slightly. “I see,” he said, his voice low but without the frost it often carried. A smile forms.

His tail flicked lightly, and he adjusted his posture, making to pull his weight up off of the rock. “If you’re patrolling,” he added, “I’ll walk with you.”