Bearclaw Valley gold run

he shifts slightly, his broad shoulders rolling as if to physically brush off any awkwardness her inquiry might stir.

his paws move again in ptero, attempting to clarify as best he can with his still-clumsy signing. no, he begins, his brows furrowing slightly as he works to ensure he’s understood. his tail gives a subtle twitch, a hint of his internal frustration at his limited fluency.

he follows up verbally, “i meant better now, here, with you.” and with a sheepish smile: my signing bad, he admits as ears fold back against his large head, his paw moving slowly, carefully, to spell out the word sorry.