Duck Lake the grass is growing on top of my feet

Cole tilted his head slightly, a low hum escaping his throat as he considered her words. Kvarsheim—a name that rang familiar, though he hadn’t crossed its borders himself. His tail gave a slow flick, thoughtful.

The valley is plentiful, he said simply, his amber gaze steady on her. There was a faint warmth in his tone, a pride for his home that didn’t need embellishment. Bearclaw had always provided, even in the harsher months.

But what of Kvarsheim? he asked, shifting his weight slightly, favoring his uninjured leg. And what’s got you wanderin’ out here? Don’t seem like the best time for a stroll. His eyes lingered on her, curious but not unkind, waiting for her answer.