Bearclaw Valley make the water rise

Cole listened, his gaze steady as Nephele spoke. The pride in her voice when she mentioned Anatolia did not go unnoticed, nor did the undercurrent of something else—something wistful. He knew that feeling well. Watching the young grow, change, become their own, it was a bittersweet thing.
He gave a slow nod, glancing out toward the valley. She’s lucky to have you, he said simply, voice low and sure.
Her mention of travel pulled his attention back to her. Good, he murmured, the ghost of a smile flickering across his rugged features. It’s easy to forget when you stop for too long. There was truth in it—staying in one place, settling, it could make a man restless. It could make anyone restless.
His gaze lingered on her for a beat longer, then flicked back toward the trees. Take me with you next time? A question, not just of her venture, but of her intentions—whether she would stay, whether she wanted to.