Bearclaw Valley a songbird and her cage

Tvar’s expression hardened, confusion flashing briefly in his sharp blue eyes at the name she uttered. He shifted slightly, his posture remaining steady but his gaze narrowing as he searched her face for an explanation. “I’m not sure who you think I am,” he said evenly, his voice low but firm. “But that’s not my name.”

Her reaction wasn’t what he had expected—it wasn’t fear or wariness, but something else entirely. Recognition, perhaps, though it didn’t belong to him. He kept his distance, his broad frame relaxed but poised, waiting to see if she would explain herself.

“You seem startled,” Tvar added after a moment. He shook his head, a faint frown tugging at his features. “But I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I'm Tvar."