Fox's Glade ocean eyes

Cole shifted on his paws, a quiet hum escaping him as he tried to navigate her words. He wasn’t used to soft, kind-hearted conversation, and Winslet’s demeanor—gentle and wistful—caught him off guard. His eyes flicked toward the small mound of earth where the bird now rested before he met her gaze, noticing the way the wind tousled her willowy fur.

Winter’s always rough, he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. Dreary, sure, but it’s... part of the deal. He shrugged awkwardly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if considering a smile but never quite making it there. Snow comes. Makes everything look... quiet. Maybe that’s good, sometimes.

His gaze lingered on her, sage eyes framed by long lashes, her reserved grace something he couldn’t help but notice. He rubbed at his neck with a paw, realizing he’d fallen quiet too long.

Winslet, he said finally, her name sounding odd but deliberate on his tongue. It’s a good name. Matches you. His ears flicked, as if embarrassed by his own words. Well... He cleared his throat, gesturing loosely toward the valley. I guess... it’s got its charm. Just gotta know where to look.