Bitterroot Valley room to make a big mistake

sega’s gaze flicked once toward callahan— a silent command, simple and respectful.

go. give us space.

a small tilt of his head sent the younger male stepping back, then further still, until he melted into the edge of the clearing. sega did not watch him leave. his attention had already narrowed, golden eyes settling fully on angel.

the elk skull gleamed pale against the denmouth, the antlers catching winter light like carved bone branches. he approached it slowly, reverently almost, then looked back to her.

angel, he murmured, the word carrying a weight it hadn’t before.

he circled the skull once, testing the sharp, clean lines of it with the tip of his muzzle. no cracks. no rot. no signs of easy death. a healthy beast. a hard kill. her kill.

you hunt this? sega asked, voice low, almost awed. alone?

his jaw tightened, not with doubt, but at worry for how dangerous the act would be.

regardless, hn. incredible, he said, breath warm in the cold air. strong animal. strong work.

he nudged one sweeping antler with his paw, respectful.

we put at feasting place, he decided. all great sky will see your strength.

he lifted his head, meeting her eyes. his tone softened then, something warm and private threading into the roughness.

you bring far, he said quietly. for me.

a small breath. a deeper one.

i like it.