Bearclaw Valley In this world, it's just us

set after this thread @Rala

The sun dipped low behind the jagged horizon as Cole trudged back into Bearclaw Valley. His steps were uneven, one paw lifting gingerly with each stride. The scent of blood clung faintly to his fur, though the worst of it had dried during his long trek home. A shallow gash marred his shoulder, and his flank bore a bite mark from one of the scrappy coyotes. Nothing serious—he’d had worse—but the ache slowed him nonetheless.

His breath puffed visibly in the crisp evening air, and his amber eyes flicked over the familiar landscape. Relief bloomed faintly beneath the weariness; he was home, and the worst was behind him. Still, his ears twitched with tension, scanning the valley for movement. He hadn’t lingered on the edges, unsure who might meet him first or what questions might follow.

For now, his focus remained on reaching shelter. Injured or not, he’d done his part—those coyotes wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

blood-scent was not something a huntress such as nanuralaaq would miss.

she had risen, now, searching for what brought the smell. polar-cub with her firm steps, lacking their usual grace as she hurried. it was a foul mix of wolf and coyote, of which she gathered to be the result of a recent fight - her steps grew quicker.

it was a swath of oaken fur ; the very man that had recruited her. cole! the snowwoman heightened her voice, her tail waving behind her as to catch his attention as she drew closer towards him. once in speaking-range, she would say: what has happened? and her gaze scanned over him in the same manner as a worried hen.

assessing the wounds were not too serious, she settled, but although she wished to treat him, he would need a bath first ; the dried blood upon his fur was not hygienic in the slightest, and who knew what kind of illnesses those coyotes may have had?

Cole’s ears flicked toward the sound of her voice, his amber gaze narrowing slightly as he shifted his weight. The movement sent a sharp sting through his flank, drawing a low grunt from his chest. He slowed as Rala approached, her concern clear in the way her gaze darted over him.

Me and Tvar, he started, his voice steady despite the ache in his muscles. We took care of a coyote pack meddlin’ at the borders. His tail gave a slow, deliberate sway behind him, though the effort clearly cost him.

They won’t be comin’ back, he added, his tone resolute. The memory of the fight lingered—teeth flashing, bodies colliding, the sharp tang of blood in the air. He exhaled sharply, shifting his stance again to ease the pressure on his injured leg.

they won't be comin' back, cole said, and that gave nanuralaaq the slightest bit of reassurance. nonetheless, her face was that of worry, scanning the dried, crusting blood that stuck to his oaken fur. is this yours, or coyotes? she asked. it would need to come off eventually, preferably within a lake, rather than at the disposal of someone's tongue. she did not wish to subject someone to such a metallic taste, nor the potential health risks that could come with accidentally ingesting it.

his wounds were not severe, however ; a gash upon his shoulder and a bite upon his flank. such things could be easily remedied, as they were shallow, a result of the small teeth of coyotes. a layer of snow would do any possible inflammation good, and it would keep the wound cool. similarly, should it come off, it would likely take the dried blood with it, and so she would say, lie down, and dig at the snow with her paws.

an explanation left her pale maw, words, unrestrained, spilling from her lips: i am putting snow on wounds. it will prevent inflammation ; keep them cool, and act as a barrier between injuries and airborne disease, rala said, drawing the softest of snows towards her, forming a pile to work with and dab on to his body. and i will rub it into dry blood, so you do not have to walk all ways to the lake for a bath. easier this way, for you and me. she wondered, then, if there was a true healer here for him to visit, or if he would be stuck with the polar-cub and her homemade remedies.

Cole grumbled low under his breath but didn’t protest further. He eased himself down into the snow with a wince, the sting of his injuries making themselves known as his weight shifted. The chill of the snow nipping at his fur wasn’t entirely unwelcome—it soothed the ache somewhat.

I ain’t complainin’, he muttered, voice rough but tinged with reluctant gratitude. You seem to know what you’re doin’, so have at it.

As Rala worked, his amber eyes narrowed slightly, catching a faint scent on the wind—something familiar, but not entirely welcome. He tilted his head toward her, curiosity flickering across his expression.

Why d’you smell like Dolce and Tvar? he asked gruffly, his tone laced with a faint edge of suspicion. Been keepin’ busy, huh?

ho life or no life

and so she would 'have at it', carefuly working the snow into his wounds, to the dried blood that stuck upon his pelt. the moisture that the snow carried would carefully chip away at it, though she would have to be firm with her paws as to get it off completely.

his next words caught her by surprise. perhaps she did not notice the presence of the two men amongst her pelt, or perhaps she did not think that cole would comment on it. nonetheless, without shame, she said: they have caught my curiosities, rather vague, though the true meaning of her words was not too difficult to grasp, she thought.

@Dolce - i met before coming to bearclaw valley, her relationship with @Tvar was a recent development, something she had been considering, pondering, although she could not lie, the southern one, the man that had been her first friend of these lands, still lingered upon her mind. never leaving. both, though, are friends of mine.

nothing quite less than friends, but perhaps something more.

Cole huffed softly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Ah, he muttered, his tone neither approving nor dismissive but carrying just enough weight to show he’d heard her words clearly.

His golden eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained easy. Y'hurt any of their feelin's, he drawled, his voice steady and low, and I'll come for 'ya.

The smirk shifted into something more teasing as he settled back into his usual guarded demeanor, letting her continue her work.

though he seemed to be joking, or teasing, at the very least, a frown formed on rala's face. an unusual sight upon the typically bright woman, her brows drew together as she worked. was it selfish to admit that she wanted them both? to keep both of them to herself, to protect them, heal them, rest with them.

dolce - the memory of him, his listening and his charm, was strong. tvar - his words, his personality, stoic yet kind, was alluring. she took a breath, releasing it in a soft, low sigh. i do not wish to hurt either of them, perhaps she should move on from both - it would only be fair that way, would it not? but she could not bring herself to push them from her thoughts. either of them. was it cruel of her, to think in this way?

rala removed her paws from cole, now, assessing her work, the snow that covered his wounds, laid upon his body. only a few remnants of the dried blood remained, and the snow that had been used to remove it was now a faint brown-red colour.

how does it feel?

He stretched his arm slowly, testing the muscles beneath the layer of snow Rala had so carefully applied. The tension eased slightly as he moved, and though there was still an ache, it was far better than before. A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as he rolled his shoulder.

Better than it was, he said with a satisfied huff, lowering his arm back to his side. His dark eyes met hers briefly, catching the faint worry that lingered in her expression. He wasn’t one for emotional moments, but even he could appreciate her effort, her care.

Thanks, Rala, he added, his tone softening. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he straightened. Hope for the best, yeah? You’ve done good work here.

There was no teasing now, just a quiet sincerity as he stepped back, giving her space and letting her words from earlier settle.

good, she breathed, a relief washing over her face, gently moving aside the weariness she had only briefly held on to. you come to me when you need another layer. reapplied two more times from now. then, lake, to wash. should be better in a few days, a skill that had been taught by her grandmother, though the title of 'healer' had been passed down to her sister, @Tiqiak. a girl that resembled their mother.

she would stand, then. at his comment of good work, she replied: thank you, and her tone would change, then. faux reprimand ; a warning to be careful. the valley will be protected while you rest, cole. overexertion will make it worse. i best not be seeing you anytime soon, and although a smile lingered upon her face, a seriousness carried her words. should the guard further his injuries, bearclaw valley may go without one for a longer amount of time, rather than if he simply rested as he was advised to.

go to your den - you must let your body heal.

she would only leave once he did.

Cole gave her a small nod, the weight of her words not lost on him. He flexed his shoulder carefully, testing the ache beneath the layers of care she had applied. It felt better already, though he wouldn’t admit how much the relief surprised him.

Thanks again, Rala, he said simply, his gruff tone softer than usual. There was no doubt he appreciated her work, even if he wasn’t the type to linger on it. I’ll see you soon.

With that, he turned, the bulk of his frame moving steadily as he exited. He would heed her advice—for now—and find his way back to his den to rest. The valley would remain protected, and he trusted Bearclaw’s strength to hold firm while he recovered.