Bearclaw Valley politics

i trust you. tvar meets his eyes then for a brief moment, feeling the warmth of purpose come to blossom like a warm hearth in his barrel chest. he nods, dipping black crown before the man, eyes briefly closing. raising his head to turn attention where ancelin calls him.
he follows, keeping pace even with the rex. scanning the treeline ahead.
where you want ‘em? he glances toward ancelin, waiting for direction, though his own eyes are already picking out spots where the message will carry best.