Bearclaw Valley Warm for the winter

“I see,” he said evenly, his tone carrying no trace of displeasure, though his expression remained unreadable. His gaze shifted briefly to the carefully arranged pelts in his den. “Thoughtful of you.”

He stepped fully into the den, his broad frame moving with quiet purpose, though he kept a comfortable distance from her. “I’m Tvar,” he offered simply, his voice steady, a formality meant to acknowledge the introduction she hadn’t given yet. “I’ve only been here a short time.”

His gaze returned to her, studying her for a beat. “You got a name?” he asked, recalling her scent among the pack’s markers.