Bearclaw Valley make the water rise

Cole glanced at her, the weight of her words settling over him like a thick, familiar fog. Home. A place she had known, a place tied to memories of her children, of a life before now.
He shifted slightly, feeling the brush of her shoulder against his, a quiet but deliberate touch. He let the silence stretch between them, comfortable in the way it settled, before finally answering, voice low and steady.
I'm looking forward to it.
There was no hesitation in his tone. No second-guessing. Just certainty.
The idea of seeing the plains through her eyes, through the stories and memories she carried, stirred something in him. He could picture it now—the endless stretch of golden grass, the wind moving like a restless spirit across the land, the bison in the distance, heavy and slow.
The four of us, he echoed, nodding. Yeah. I’d like that.
It wasn’t just about seeing the land. It was about seeing a part of her—one she’d once called home.