Whitebark Stream Polite Society, Valentine Style

that is when he comes upon ravah.

she is quiet, serene. eyes ringed by frustration staring back at her from the reflection of the cold stream, and her ears perked towards the rush of flowing water. bits of ice floating by, skewing her perception of herself with each pass.

she huffs and turns, inhaling a deep breath as her shoulder sinks inwards; paws roving over snow as if she were born to. letting her gaze sweep one last time over the territory before she moved to return to her den...

only to find herself staring at callahan's lumbering, brown form. much akin to a grizzly from some angles, she near bristles; hackles lifting, but immediately relaxing when she realizes he isn't a bear come to maul her face off.

perhaps she would have preferred that.