Bearclaw Valley one voice tells me that they laugh

Cole watched her with a measured calm, his sharp gaze following her movements as she struck with precision. When the hare stilled in her grasp, he padded closer, his steps slow and deliberate against the snow.

He stopped just short of her, his voice steady and low.

It's alrigh'. You did good.

His gaze flicked to the hare in her jaws, then back to her.

Y'can let go now.

There was no criticism in his tone, only a quiet reassurance, the faintest curl of approval tugging at the corners of his mouth.