Bearclaw Valley only then i am human,

Cole shifted beside the den entrance, setting his shoulder against the wall of earth, golden eyes falling to the wriggling shapes tucked against Ameline’s side.
He didn’t speak for a long moment.
His gaze swept over each of them slowly, as if memorizing them by light alone. There was something reverent in the stillness that came over him, in the subtle furrow of his brow, in the way his weathered face softened. The boy—Asura—was first. Then the pale girls, Arlen and Ahni. They looked so small, so fragile, like leaves caught in spring wind.
Then came the shift. He glanced down at Aurelian, still resting against his chest, and gently tucked the boy closer, mindful of the tiny breaths rising and falling beneath his jaw.
And when she lifted her limb—when she showed him the last one—his eyes caught.
Big paws. Big belly. Bear-cub through and through.
Cole blinked. Then he huffed, more breath than laugh, but it twisted his mouth into something that might’ve been a smile. That’s a whole lotta wolf in one little body, he muttered, watching the girl sprawl without a care in the world. Alf, huh?
Another pause.
He shook his head once, but not in disapproval. You weren’t kiddin’. You got yourself a litter. He looked over to Ameline, something unreadable in his face—part fondness, part awe, and some old echo of grief or wonder mixed in.
They’re real good, Ameline, he said, voice low, honest. You done good.