Bearclaw Valley one voice tells me that they laugh

Cole’s ears flicked, the only sign of his reaction as he settled beside her, the snow crunching softly beneath his weight. His green eyes stayed steady on her, neither judging nor pressing, but waiting.

What did you do? he asked, his voice quiet—not demanding, but inviting. The question hung in the cold air, his tone free of accusation, holding only curiosity and a hint of concern.

His gaze softened further as he watched her struggle, her words hesitant and fractured. He didn’t push, didn’t prod. Instead, he remained there, steady as the trees around them—a quiet presence to anchor her if she needed it.