Bitterroot Valley objects of ceremony

sega’s smirk deepened at miska’s bark of laughter, the sharp sound rolling through the dark like a thrown stone. he shook his head once, a slow amused motion, as if brushing off the jest but accepting the sentiment beneath it.

hn. good plan, he rumbled, voice warm despite its rough edges. you help. she need wolf who make world louder.

there was truth there— and trust. miska’s chaos, his humor, his boldness… all things twitch needed at her back if she was going to step out of her shell.

as miska rose, sega’s gaze followed, steady and approving.

tomorrow, he echoed, a low hum forming in his chest. you find her. she not bite hard.

a beat, then the faintest curl at the corner of his mouth.

maybe.