Bearclaw Valley But don’t you know that only fools are satisfied

tvar had risen early, already moving through the valley when he first heard the tolling sound of ameline's call. he paused mid-step, blue-green eyes flickering quietly, flitting about his surroundings in the morning light. there, a renewed sense of self brought on by a rise in position.

he huffed, shaking out his coat before continuing on. the title meant little in comparison to the work itself—he would’ve done it regardless. still, there was pride in it. not for the rank, but for proving that he was capable. worthy of the trust placed in him.

his path naturally veered toward his den so that he might check in on his wife, if she were even home, but before he could reach it, he caught ameline’s scent drawing closer. operating under the assumption she came for him, he adjusts course, meeting her halfway—a warm smile coming to his dark mask when the regina comes into light.

he dips his head to her. regina, a familiarity in his voice.