Bearclaw Valley Accepting limits

Tvar watched her closely, catching the subtle nod she offered as she motioned for him to take the lead. He noted her hesitation. He respected that.

Without further comment, he began to move, his steps slow and deliberate at first to ensure she had no trouble keeping pace. The crunch of snow beneath his paws was the only sound that broke the stillness as he led them toward the border.

Every so often, he glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes flicking to her face briefly. Not out of distrust, but to make sure she was following comfortably—and perhaps to gauge her reaction to the quiet rhythm of the patrol.

“You’ve settled in well, then?” he said after a while. He didn’t look back as he spoke, but his ears angled toward her slightly, making his attention clear.