Bitterroot Valley I waited for you

hn. this good, he said. right way. i ask father. mother meet me. there was no hesitation in his tone—only practicality, the steady weight of a man who understood duty and tradition both.

he leaned back slightly then, enough to look at her without their breaths mixing.

but… his gaze softened, though the line of his mouth stayed firm, great sky far from your home. many suns, many moons away. i cannot leave pack long. he gave a faint shake of his head. not sorrow—simply truth. they need chief here.

a beat.

so. i send hunter. strong one. he speak for me. a pause, then a small, wry tilt of his lips. maybe callahan (@Barrett). he walk fast.

his paw brushed her shoulder in reassurance, a promise rather than an excuse.

he take word to your father. ask what bride price he want. then… we go from there. his gaze lingered on her mouth, then her eyes—quiet certainty burning in both.

her repetition of his buried name drew a flicker in his expression—pain, gratitude, nostalgia—gone almost as soon as it came. but her kiss steadied him, grounding him in the present.

cövah was… boy who run fast. dream big. laugh too loud. a rare, huffed chuckle escaped him. he think world gentle.

his gaze slid back to hers.

you learn him. i tell you all. he nudged her chin with a tenderness that felt new on his tongue. and you show me angel-girl. before great sky. before sega.

a hum, soft, warm.

we build truth between us.