Bearclaw Valley for every life,

a rarity to see her fluster, dolce drank in the sight as if it was wine. a crooked smirk marked his expression, oaken eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "don't get all shy on me now," he chuckled, deep and rich. he returned his attention — or a least tried — to the task at hand. worn and rough paws dug deeper and deeper.

"should be big 'nough for my dainty figure." he snorted playfully. he shoved the pile of dirt aside with his hind leg, before he was crawling inside of the den and struggling to turn around within. he drew in his shoulders, perhaps trying to make them less broad. 

he settled with his back against the wall. "this'll do." he rumbled with approval. there was space in front of him; not much, but just enough for her to squeeze in beside him, if she wished.