Deepwood Weald keeper

he watches her echo his word—friend—and says it with such light that something stirs in his chest.
frēond, he repeats, with the faintest pull of his mouth. not a smile, but close. she draws near, and he allows it. her questions come fast, bright. he doesn’t understand them all, but her tone is kind.
he lifts a paw, taps a long scar at his shoulder. teeth. then to the side of his broken jaw. battle. words he’s picked up in passing during his time with forneskja.
her last question gives him pause—teach. his brow furrows. strange, but not unwelcome. he taps his chest.englisc.
then, slowly, he draws a circle in the dirt. taps the center twice. his eyes lift to hers.
hām?