Bearclaw Valley remember me,

Cole approached with a steady gait, his amber eyes catching sight of the pale figure seated beneath the oak. Snow flurried lightly, the scene quiet save for the sound of his steps crunching through the frost. His shoulder twinged with each movement, the wounds still tender, but his focus was on the woman before him.

Thought I'd find you here, he greeted, his voice low and even, carrying an edge of warmth despite his usual stoic demeanor. He stopped a few paces away, nodding toward her.

The snowflakes clung to her coat, her recent stretch betraying her earlier slumber. Cole took a moment to scan her, ensuring there were no signs of distress. You holdin' up alright? he asked, the concern subtle but present in his tone. Whatever she needed, she'd get—his own injuries could wait.