Bearclaw Valley for every life,

i am not getting shy, she mused, brows raised and a smile creasing her eyes as she gave another sidelong glance to the man besides her. with the help of two, it seemed that the digging of the den went quickly, and so she watched dolce as he moved inside.

she would wait a moment, maybe two, two follow after him. like i said, the pale fur on her back soon pressing against his side. you are nowhere near dainty ... and that is a good thing, and nanuralaaq would stay like this for a minute, maybe two, before she eventually crawled back out of the den and shook the dirt from her snow-kissed pelt.

giving him enough space should he, too, wish to resurface, she would say: perhaps you should get some rest, dolce, i can get you something to eat for when you wake.