Bearclaw Valley needlework and seedlings,

grabs my things and sprints

his patrol had brought him close to the communal areas. large steps slow as molasses as he moved. the day's exertion began to settle into his muscles. the golden light of the resting sun bathed the valley in a soft glow, the cold air biting at his nose.

when the woman came into view, the claw man let out a low chuff fall from agape jaws, eyes of blue-green searching her. tvar steps forward from the shadows of a nearby tree, careful to not spook her.

he'd heard of the newcomer, but was yet to meet her. he'd smelled her scent markers from a mile out. so already, tvar respected her.

“you’ve been busy,” he smiles. "i'm tvar." at least with rala about, he wasn't the new guy anymore.