Bearclaw Valley so close to what

Cole heard her before he saw her, the faint rustling of leaves giving away Nephele’s approach. He turned his head slightly, the lines of his broad frame taut and alert. When her silver form slipped into view, his features softened, though his brow remained furrowed, his typical gruffness tempered by the storm that seemed to follow her every step.

Yer lookin’ for me? he asked, voice low and steady. Without waiting for an answer, he stepped closer, his muzzle brushing lightly against her cheek, a fleeting gesture of connection that he hoped wouldn’t be unwelcome.

You alrigh’? His drawl was soft, but the concern behind it was unmistakable. He studied her with a sharp, discerning gaze, noting the tension in her posture, the faint shadow in her hazed, emerald eyes. Whatever was on her mind, he’d be there to shoulder it—though he’d never say as much aloud.