Bearclaw Valley follow me into the golden wild

he hums, thoughtful, ears twitching once as he regards the landscape with quiet reverence. the air bites at his fur, but he welcomes it—reminds him of home.
always like this, hm? a gentle mockery, a hint of tease. there is more to life than lurking in shadows, twitch.
he glances at her sidelong, expression unreadable.
the world does not wait. it moves. whether you do or not is your choice.