Bearclaw Valley hunters

he hears cole before he sees him. the sound of movement, a shift in the underbrush. when the rogue steps into view, tvar is quick to speak:

they’re close, he signs first, then says aloud for cole’s benefit, tone edged with early morning agitation. too damn close.

he doesn’t elaborate. no need. tvar’s expression hardens, the tension in his jaw mirrored in the sharp set of his eyes.

you ready? blunt, to the point. there’s no space for hesitation here. he trusts cole will be as ready to bleed as he is.