Bitterroot Valley Exit, Pursued by a Bruised Ego

sega shot him a look from the corner of his eye, the kind that landed somewhere between amusement and warning. a slow smirk pulled at his scarred cheek before he turned forward again, hauling the elk with steady strength.

he gave a short grunt at the praise, nothing more, the rumble low in his chest— accepting just enough to acknowledge, refusing anything that might puff him up.

then he kept moving, pace unbroken, letting the trail stretch ahead of them. the silence settled back in easily, clean as frost on morning grass, and his tail swept once behind him in quiet approval as they walked.