Bearclaw Valley lockbox

this girl carries the same resolve that seems to course through the wolves of bearclaw. he observes her for a moment longer, noting the precision of her steps and the way she marks the territory with intent.

without hesitation, tvar moves to join her. his black paws crunch softly against the snow, his tall frame blending with the shadows of the treeline as he approaches. she’s young, younger than most he’s patrolled alongside—thus, leading him to the assumption that she must be one of ancelin and ameline's whelps.

'course, it helps she resembles her mother.

when he’s close enough, he chuffs softly, not intent on spooking the girl. you’re making quick work of this.