Bearclaw Valley all i want

Cole hummed, low in his chest, a sound that carried neither agreement nor argument—just acknowledgment. She was wrong, but he wouldn’t waste breath convincing her of that. Blame had no place here. Regret wouldn’t change what had happened. All they could do now was move forward.
And so he did.
His body shifted into something sharper, more purposeful, as they moved through the brush. The scent of the doe was fresh, laced with the crispness of the morning. His ears flicked forward, honing in on the subtle rustle of movement ahead.
He slowed, his posture lowering, and cast a glance toward Winslet—a silent signal. Then, without a sound, he pressed onward, eyes locked on the shadowed form of their prey.