Wapun Meadow stress lines and cigarettes

nimbus stood silent for a moment, her words hanging in the cold air. The wolves of bearclaw valley—she spoke of them with the weight of conviction, the kind that came from living among those willing to kill or die for their territory. he wasn’t blind to the risk he took being here, even if he’d convinced himself it didn’t matter. her presence, however, softened the edges of that threat, though she still held herself like someone deciding whether or not to trust the wind. 

her sigh carried over to him, a sound that tugged at something deep within. as she turned and began to speak of food, his ears flicked forward, catching the shift in her tone. he didn’t expect her offer; generosity wasn’t something he looked for in strangers, much less in wolves with ties to a pack. it caught him off guard, though his expression remained composed, unreadable save for the faint narrowing of his amber eyes.

can’t say no to that, he murmured, his voice rough with the fatigue of his travels. it wasn’t gratitude exactly, at least not in the conventional sense, but there was something in the way he spoke, a subtle undertone that betrayed a quiet relief. he followed her steps slowly, keeping a deliberate distance out of respect—or caution, perhaps.

bearclaw’s lucky to have someone like you watching their borders, he added after a stretch of silence, his words carried by the faintest smile, though his gaze remained on the path ahead. with no where to go, he wouldn't deny the death wish he was beginning to sign.