Bearclaw Valley Will

Cole’s molten eyes narrowed as he stepped out from the veil of snow, his massive frame moving with quiet precision. The sight of the stranger lingering near one of Nephele’s daughters—Zephyra, if he wasn’t mistaken—ignited a protective edge in him. His gaze swept over the scene, taking in the man’s cautious retreat and Zephyra’s boldness as she dragged the badger away.

He positioned himself between the stranger and the girl, his stance firm but calm, the kind of confidence that didn’t need to be shouted to be understood. His voice, when it came, was low and steady, carrying the unmistakable weight of authority.

Don’t reckon I like the look of this, Cole drawled, his Southern accent tinging the words with a dangerous warmth. Y’got business here, best speak it plain. Don’t see a reason for you to be lingering ‘round young’uns otherwise.

His amber eyes flicked to Zephyra briefly, softening just enough to convey reassurance. You alright there, little lady? he asked, his voice quieter but no less serious.

Turning his attention back to the stranger, Cole stood his ground, every inch the protective wall between the man and the pup. The snow swirled around them, but his focus didn’t waver. He’d wait for the man to speak, his posture making it clear he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than a straightforward answer.