Bitterroot Valley Exit, Pursued by a Bruised Ego

Oh, he grinned widely now. That warmth in his gaze was not quite invisible. And a hunt for her return? Perhaps that was just the culture of the place, but not all things were simply coincidence—he knew that match.
Must like you, then, he hummed, implication clear on his tongue. Should she be likin' those strong, n' kind. Sounds like you, my friend, and a chuckle left his chest, deep and gravelled. He gave a nod to the silent order; to carry the meat back to the valley. But still, the smile did not leave his face, for where there was a distant hurt, there was also a budding friendship that laid within. And something of Sega led Barrett to be happy at his own happiness. The outlaw, developing a sense of empathy.
Who knew such a thing could happen.
Barrett lowered his head, tearing a chunk off the carcass as large as he could so possibly make it, before looking back to Sega. A nod, again, telling him that he was ready to head back. Sun had well and truly kissed the sky now, as it grew in shades of periwinkle and belle. He took a few steps forwards, flicking his tail.
Ultimately, he trusted the Chief to lead the way.