Bearclaw Valley bakers dozen

Cole gave a slow nod, a flicker of amusement barely touching the corners of his mouth. Had time to get 'em all, he murmured, voice low and steady, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.
Ameline’s disbelief didn’t bother him—he’d never been one to do things halfway. When she butted against his shoulder, he barely shifted, though the weight of it, the familiarity, settled somewhere deep in his chest.
Swiftcurrent Creek, he echoed, mulling over the name. It wasn’t a place he knew well, but he understood what was being asked of him. A mission, not just a run for scavenged goods, but a show of gratitude. I’ll take it.
His gaze met hers, unwavering. Oughta bring ‘em somethin’ in return. You got anything in mind? He wasn't much for showing thanks in words—actions had always been more his speed. If they’d helped Winslet, they deserved more than just a nod in passing.