Bitterroot Valley ✢ And his eyes all over me

it was strange, how quickly her voice had become part of the valley’s rhythm—something he noticed when it wasn’t there.

itchy paws, he repeated, the corner of his mouth pulling in something near amusement. yes. you have that. his tail gave a small sway behind him, a motion rare and quiet.

he looked out toward the river, where the mist still curled low and silver. when you go, he said after a moment, voice rough and low, you find me first. his gaze found hers again, steady. you take gift. meat, pelt… whatever you want. for your tʉba.

the word came soft, pliant in the way of his people. she know you safe. you strong.

he bent his head back to the hide they had been working, teeth catching the edge of flesh. and when you come back, he added, almost under his breath, you tell me if she like it.