Bearclaw Valley if he fell in love

see his history and blackfell's pawprints!

he tries to sign crownore first, his paws hesitating mid-air before he opts to speak instead: crownore, he says, ensuring she can see his lips form the word. when he looks back at her, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. towhee and tvar crownore.

it feels right. sounds right.

with that, he shifts, rolling onto his back, his gaze fixed upward at the clouds swirling above. his paw rises, cutting shapes into the pale sky as he begins to sign. it’s a struggle—his movements are clunky, hesitant—but he persists. he tells her about his father, adonis, and his mother, lunarre. the siblings he had grown up with in winterhelm. but then, about his real mother, lycinia and the siblings he had never known until he was an adult. about their lineage, the great clan of hrafnvaengr. his signs falter here and there, and he pauses to mouth certain words for her to catch.

he finishes with a soft huff, his paw falling back to rest against his chest as he turns his gaze toward her. there’s a quiet vulnerability in his expression, one he rarely shows, but it feels right to share it with her. but now i belong with you.