Bearclaw Valley follow me into the golden wild

he hums, low and thoughtful, the corners of his mouth twitching faintly in response to her wary tone. his eyes never leave her, patient but piercing, as if he's carefully weighing his words before offering them.
because i see you, twitch.
he steps closer, mindful of the distance she maintains, mindful not to crowd her. voice quiet now, steady.
you hide—but i still see.
the wind whispers sharply past, carrying the scent of new life, change.
everyone needs somewhere to start.