Wapun Meadow good, honest work

The hulking outlaw moved with purpose, his frame cutting through the meadow's stillness like a blade. Cole let out a low grunt in greeting, not bothering to mask the tension that had coiled in his chest for days.

Recent border skirmishes had soured his mood, leaving him sharper, more withdrawn. The valley had always been a place of pride and strength, but lately, it felt like a tinderbox ready to ignite.

He straightened slightly, his amber eyes narrowing as they locked on Dolce. The man carried himself with confidence—good. They’d need every ounce of it if trouble found them again.

Anything out there? Cole's voice was gruff, his tone edged with impatience. His gaze flicked toward the horizon before returning to Dolce, searching for signs of news—or prey.