Bearclaw Valley That I'm not the carefullest of girls

The shadows of the dense forest cloaked his movements as Cole prowled the border, his senses sharp. A faint, unfamiliar scent teased his nose—lone, feminine, and far too close to Bearclaw's territory. His dark eyes narrowed, and with a purposeful stride, he followed the trail.

Emerging soundlessly from the trees, he caught sight of her just as she turned away. Her limp did not escape his notice, nor did the flicker of indecision in her posture. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, his large frame cutting through the dim light as he addressed her with a low, steady voice.

Y'lost? His words broke the quiet, laced with an edge, though his gaze held firm, watchful. The air between them was heavy with the weight of his sudden arrival, the shadows receding slightly to reveal his broad, imposing form.