Bearclaw Valley the sharks and the minnows

not yet an official claw, but still welcomed to traverse bearclaw land, dolce found himself already set off to work. to prove himself, or perhaps keep himself busy. either way, his own patrol of sorts had led him toward the outskirts. the outlaw lumbered, head hanging heavily between broad shoulders, scarred limbs carrying him swiftly through the snow. 

a voice called to him. unfamiliar. he swung his head around to leer at the man approaching. he smelled of bearclaw and—

@Rala. although it'd been days since he'd met that beautiful, fiery woman, days since they'd promised to find one another, she'd lingered heavy on his mind. he couldn't forget that faintly sweet scent, perhaps wouldn't for a long while. that meant that she was here.

there's a warmth that blossoms in his cold heart, one that threatens to thaw it. but then, it's squandered by something seething. jealousy. why did this stranger smell so strongly of her? 

had she forgotten of the promise she'd made? had she already forgotten about him?

his eyes are shaded, lips pulled into a thin, taught line, and jaws set. he squared his shoulders and muscles tensed beneath fur. "hmm, that's me. what'chu want?" words were deep, pointed, impatient.