Bitterroot Valley ✢ Natural blood-stained blond

Sega’s ears tipped, a scoff pulling sharp from his chest.
Hn. No. I not fight young, he rumbled, words broken on his tongue. His pale gaze cut through the thin boy, not enemy, not yet man. Strong come… when season come. Not now.
He turned, tail a sweep like command. Heavy paws led toward the carcass, the musk of elk still thick in the air, blood stiff in the frost. Sega lowered himself beside it, great frame folding into stillness.
Eat, he told him, voice coarse as he picked at the scabs of his paws. No trade. No threat. Only this. His eyes stayed on the boy, holding like guard. Body need first. then spirit grow.