Fox's Glade ocean eyes

@Cole SHE IS LIVE

 

beneath an old tree stripped bare, sat the woman with a broken heart. a dreamer who once flitted about with wanderlust, now a frightened little thing. delicate frame wrapped in plush, soft fur that draped like the boughs of a willow, hazel eyes casted down. to the body of a songbird, still at her feet, unmoving. her breaths leave her in soft puffs; her eyes glimmer like jewels with the threat of tears.

"you poor thing." she murmured, almost whispered. she lifted a soft paw to cradle the bird, as if to bring it some form of comfort...the kind she was craving herself, nursing a shattered heart and frightened soul. is that how the bird had felt, before it met its death? alone and scared? 

a tear falls, soaks into white fur on her cheeks. her posture no longer speaks if regal prim and proper; she hangs her head, a soft hiccup rattling in her ribs. 

why had the birds death moved her so? 

possibly because she saw herself within its lifeless eyes.

Cole's steady gait slowed as a faint, delicate scent reached his nose—jasmine, subtle and refined, carried on the chilled wind. His sharp eyes scanned the tree line until they settled on the figure beneath a skeletal tree, her form hunched and trembling.

The sight made him pause. She sat cradling something small and lifeless, her tears catching the muted light as they fell. Cole cleared his throat, his deep voice a low rumble in the quiet of the forest.

Ma'am, he began, his tone uncharacteristically soft. His brow furrowed as he stepped forward, careful not to startle her. You alrigh'?

He stood at a respectful distance, his broad frame imposing but his posture relaxed, leaving no room for misunderstanding. Though his world was one of grit and action, the sight of her vulnerability stirred something within him. He waited, letting the silence hold as he observed the delicate creature before him.

mourning and grief settled in her narrow chest, heavy and sinking. not only for the poor little bird that she cradles with a gentleness born, not earned—but for the woman she used to be. so full of life and hopefulness. so eager to love and be loved, and to care for her people. to bring them peace. 

she misses her old self. the ghost that had been left in kathhara, cowering beneath the cruel paws of a man who was supposed to cherish her. 

like a licking flame had been snuffed. 

a deep rumble of a voice pulls her from her sorrow—startles her, more like. it'd been so long since she'd been in the company of anyone, let alone a man. the newly-instilled fear toward masculinity struck a chord inside of her. short ears pulled back against her skull, and teary eyes watched him. wary, uncertain. 

but his voice, albeit gruff, was kind. worried, even. she didn't run from him, least not yet. 

her eyes fell back to the bird at her paws, its feathers tattered and dull. she sniffles, tries to compose herself. "i am okay," she lies. something she'd never been good at. "i feel bad for this starling. it must've had a lonely death." she frowned. 

he must think her a fool, shedding tears over a creature so small. she curls her tail around her hind legs, perhaps to make herself appear smaller. 

"i was going to bury it, but the ground is frozen." it deserved to rest properly. maybe in helping such, it'd make her feel better.

Cole raised a brow at her, his gaze briefly dropping to the small bird cradled in her paws. A soft sigh escaped him, the cool air making his breath visible. She seemed delicate, fragile even, but there was something in her sorrow that tugged at him—something honest, raw. He shifted his weight slightly, his paws already worn from the day's patrol.

He didn’t quite understand her sentiment toward the bird, but he wasn’t one to judge. His voice came low and steady, the gruffness tempered by a surprising softness.

I can dig a hole, he offered after a moment of thought, the idea coming to him naturally. He was good at these sorts of things—practical tasks, quiet labor. His paws, though rough and calloused, would manage just fine against the frozen earth. My paws are already worn. One more task won’t hurt.

Without waiting for an answer, he stepped forward, brushing the snow aside with a practiced motion, his shoulders shifting as he began to scrape at the frozen ground. It wasn’t much, but it was something he could do.

she exhales a soft, incredulous breath, as the man cloaked in amber offers to help her with the burial. hazel eyes flicker upward, nervous but awe-filled, peeking through long lashes. winnie is silent as he begins to scratch and claw at the earth with paws much sturdier than her own. snow billows in soft clouds at his sturdy limbs, giving way to dirt, which he tears up effortlessly. he carries a silent strength that while she can appreciate, it makes her feel flighty. one of those paws could crush the lifeless bird with ease...and yet, here he is, helping dig it's grave.

the hole is carved out within a matter of minutes, a shallow indent just big enough to cradle the starling's body. she lowers her head to nuzzle the bird into it's grave. the sorrow still dances within her, but now insignificant compared to the curiosity, the confusion, and the gratefulness she felt toward him. with closed eyes, she murmurs a quiet prayer. "may you find peace."

"you are helping me..." a gentle statement, voice no louder than the cold wind that brushes by. "why?" she doesn't demand, but inquires. winnie couldn't understand why he'd go out of his way to help her with something so silly. it was significant only to her; a lover of all creatures, a starling deserved a proper resting place, too. she drew back into herself once again, shifty and sad eyes meeting his, only to dart away again. "i do not even know your name..."

Cole’s paws stilled as the grave was completed, its edges rough but sufficient for the starling’s final rest. He stepped back, his large frame giving the small woman space, sensing her fragility in the way her voice barely lifted over the wind. Her question lingered between them, fragile and uncertain, like the life she mourned.

He watched her nudge the bird into place, her gentleness a stark contrast to his own calloused nature. When she murmured her prayer, he inclined his head respectfully, though he didn’t intrude on the quiet moment.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low and steady, carrying the warmth of a southern drawl that softened its gruffness. Name’s Cole, he offered simply, his gaze steady but kind. He didn’t answer her other question directly—didn’t say that helping her was just what he knew to do, just a part of who he was. Instead, he rumbled lightly, Reckon everyone could use a hand now and then.

Stepping back further, he gave her the room to process her grief and compose herself. It wasn’t his place to press, but he stayed nearby, his presence a quiet assurance that she wasn’t alone. He glanced toward the lake, his posture easy but ready, should she need more from him.

"cole," she repeated gently, testing the name on her tongue. "thank you. i know it must seem silly, but..." words trailed, lilted, before billowing into a soft sigh. "even birds deserve proper burials." she'd been taught to respect even the smallest creatures, to show compassion. a good deed brings good tidings, her mother once whispered. she realizes now that perhaps she's too soft, too fragile. too emotional.

with a shaky breath, she smiles, although small and forlorn. it momentarily brings a glimmer to her eyes, a softness to narrow features that typically are dimmed with sorrow. her chest feels just a little lighter now, with the bird to rest and a distraction from her turmoil. willowy tail curls neatly around cold paws as she lifts her chin to meet his gentle gaze. it was unjudging, careful. she enjoyed it.

"you have a kind heart, cole. my name is winslet." she hummed. the willowy fur on her cheeks dances in a cool gust of wind. "is it always so dreary here? i'm a stranger to these lands."

Cole shifted on his paws, a quiet hum escaping him as he tried to navigate her words. He wasn’t used to soft, kind-hearted conversation, and Winslet’s demeanor—gentle and wistful—caught him off guard. His eyes flicked toward the small mound of earth where the bird now rested before he met her gaze, noticing the way the wind tousled her willowy fur.

Winter’s always rough, he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. Dreary, sure, but it’s... part of the deal. He shrugged awkwardly, the corners of his mouth twitching as if considering a smile but never quite making it there. Snow comes. Makes everything look... quiet. Maybe that’s good, sometimes.

His gaze lingered on her, sage eyes framed by long lashes, her reserved grace something he couldn’t help but notice. He rubbed at his neck with a paw, realizing he’d fallen quiet too long.

Winslet, he said finally, her name sounding odd but deliberate on his tongue. It’s a good name. Matches you. His ears flicked, as if embarrassed by his own words. Well... He cleared his throat, gesturing loosely toward the valley. I guess... it’s got its charm. Just gotta know where to look.

the quiet Cole speaks of had not been kind to her. it was lonely and cold, and just an ever-present reminder of everything that's transpired this past few weeks. "perhaps. but quiet can also be lonely." she murmured. "i am not used to it. and i'm not sure if i ever will be." 

winnie finds herself smiling again, although bashfully. her eyes avert and she shifts small paws awkwardly in the snow. skin beneath the fur of her cheeks felt warmer. he was charming, even perhaps when he wasn't trying to be. a charming brute. she wasn't quite sure how those two qualities could mix. 

"thank you," she whispered. eyes follow his, where she peers out at the valley with a new curiosity. "it seems so...open. vast. i grew up on the coast. near the sea." suddenly she felt homesick, such a bittersweet feeling. she wishes so badly she could go home. but perhaps she'd be better off trying to find the charm Cole mentioned. 

"would you...like to join me for a walk, Cole?" she asked oh so tentatively, as if expecting rejection.

Cole blinked, momentarily stunned by her delicate manner. The softness in her voice, the gentle tilt of her head—it was something he wasn’t used to, and it left him fumbling for a response. Doesn't have'ta be that way.

He shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat as he looked out over the valley for a moment before returning his gaze to her.

Yeah, I... I’ve got time, he said, his deep voice carrying an unusual hesitation. His tail gave a single slow sway, an unspoken attempt to put her at ease as much as himself. He felt clumsy under her refined gaze, unsure how to carry himself around someone so... genteel.

I’ll join you, he added, a little firmer this time. He adjusted his stance, his towering frame somehow trying not to seem as imposing beside her small, graceful figure. The open valley stretched out before them, and for once, he wasn’t just scouting—it felt like something more, though he couldn’t quite place why.

Tell me about...the ocean. Ain't ever...been t'one.

her frail heart throbbed for a moment. she wasn't sure if perhaps he'd agreed out of pity, but regardless, she was warmed inside out. the loneliness she was beginning to feel was permanent, would be put to rest for a while. with a gentle nod, and trying to hide a smile that might have just warmed sage eyes, she rose to begin gliding across the snow. 

the presence beside her was larger, solid, strong. but not as intimidating now, she thought, as they walked side by side. aimlessly—she had no true direction. just eager to have his company, if only for a little while. where she left small prints in the snow, his nearly swallowed them. 

her eyes gleamed, flitting to meet his, filled with surprise. "it's beautiful. vast and never ending, stretching behind the horizon...the beaches are soft with white sand, and the air thick with salt." she began to ramble, almost excitedly so, a wistful lilt. "we used the sea for its fish, but i was always fascinated by it, for its beauty. when i was a little girl, i used to dream about following the ocean's tide to see where it'd take me."

winselt paused, exhaled a soft, sheepish giggle. ears turned sideways upon realization she'd been talking up a storm. "sorry, i get a bit carried away. just a bit homesick, i suppose." she murmured. but strangely—talking with him about home hadn't felt so bad. 

her steps were light, graceful. she peered up at him for a moment, eyes lingering on strong features. "where did you grow up?"

Cole walked alongside Winslet, his steps heavy in contrast to her light-footed grace. He listened intently as she spoke, the wistful notes in her voice bringing a rare softness to his usually stoic demeanor. The way she described the ocean—its vastness, its beauty—made him pause, imagining a world so different from the one he’d known.

When she giggled, sheepish and apologetic, he shook his head slightly, his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles. It’s alrigh’, he assured her, his tone quiet but steady. Ain’t much of a talker, so it’s good to hear someone else fill the air.

He glanced down at her, then ahead again, the snowy expanse seeming to stretch endlessly before them. Grew up in the mountains, he began, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia that didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a valley down below, but it wasn’t much. Just rocky slopes, cold winds, and nothin’ worth missin’.

He paused, rolling his shoulder as if shrugging off a memory. Ain’t got no soft sand or salt air like your sea, he added, glancing at her briefly. But I reckon it made me who I am. Hard place, hard folks.

His gaze settled ahead once more, his pace steady. Don’t be sorry for missin’ your home. We all do, in our way.

a mountain man, then, as tough as the rocks he'd scale. it made all too much sense, but it saddened her perhaps, knowing he hadn't the faintest clue of the beauty beyond mountains. "peaks have their own charm, i suppose. do you think you'd like the ocean? you'd make a fine fisher, i imagine." she grinned, small, but almost playfully.

she doesn't know why, but she hopes he would. that the thought of the open sea would soothe his mind, as much as it used to soothe her own.

with a languid swish of her tail, she led their journey forth, feeling a calmness that'd become unfamiliar. she didn't mind that he wasn't much for conversation; he was listening, and that was enough. 

sneaking glances at him from the corner of her eyes, her lips purse in thought. "my home, kathhara...it's all i've ever known. i used to yearn for exploration...but now, it's scary." she admitted quietly. everything was so scary lately.

Heavy steps crunching in the snow behind her lighter ones. The thought of fishing made him hum in amusement, though he shook his head slightly. Don't know much about fishin', he admitted after a moment, his deep voice breaking the quiet around them. But I reckon I can appreciate it. Sounds peaceful.

He glanced at her, catching the wistful look in her sage eyes as she spoke of her home and her fears. For a moment, his gaze softened, the usual rugged edge of his demeanor easing as he considered her words.

It's not all bad out here, he said, his tone gentler than before. Might not be Kathhara, but... it's got its own kind of good. 'Specially if you meet the right folks. He offered a small, almost awkward smile, one corner of his mouth tugging upward.

Though words weren't his strength, he hoped she felt the weight of his reassurance. It wasn't much, but it was something.

"it is peaceful, but it requires a lot of patience. a lot of waiting, watching." she hummed softly, voice a gentle melody. she'd once been a great fisherwoman; taught by her father. her heart both warmed and ached at the bittersweet memories. life had been so simple back then...

"perhaps one day, i can teach you." it was a shy offer, a soft one. extended carefully incase he would refuse. it would be nice, to not only test her skill again, but to do so with pleasant company. 

that gentle tone of his...it made her heart stutter, in ways she could not understand. how a man so rugged could speak so softly; it fed the hopeless romantic in her, that tiny part that'd been shrouded for so long. she smiled, perhaps wider than before. his words did soothe the ache. she was grateful. he was a good man. 

"if they're as friendly as you, i think i might be alright." she glances up at him, seeing him in a new light. a bright one. thoughtfully, she asks, "what pack are you with?" his scent carried that of others.

Cole nodded, a small, almost bashful smile tugging at the corners of his rugged features. Her offer was genuine, and though he wasn’t one for delicate pastimes, there was something about her soft-spoken nature that made him consider it.

I'd appreciate that, he said, voice low and gruff, yet carrying an edge of warmth. Bearclaw Valley— he paused, glancing out over the landscape, his gaze momentarily distant before settling back on her. It's home. Tough, strong wolves, but fair. There's a lot of unity, but you gotta pull your weight.

He shifted slightly, the weight of his frame making a soft crunch in the snow beneath him. It’s not an easy place, but it’s worth it. Keeps you sharp, y’know?

Looking back at her, his amber eyes softened. You’d probably fit right in, though. Friendly like this, he added with a faint smile, you’d be alright.

cole how i love you..

bearclaw hadn't sounded too different than kathhara, in principle. her people were deeply rooted, always helping one another, always protective and welcoming. certainly not as strong; they weren't known for their army, after all, but rather their gentle-naturedness, the type she carried with her so effortlessly. 

but she wasn't strong. not like cole, both physically and emotionally. she'd been sheltered and trimmed like a rose without any thorns; how could she possibly be a valuable asset to bearclaw? 

insecurity masked whatever happiness she was allowing herself to feel in his presence. she walked just a bit more timidly, unsure of herself, as she considered what he'd said. "i-i am not sure. there isn't much i can offer." she murmured dismissively.

honeyed words and friendly smiles could only get her so far. she couldn't hunt, couldn't fight...only mend, perhaps, but what if they were looking for steel, and not a healer? 

"it would be lovely, to be apart of something bigger again." less lonely. perhaps she could find her place in this world, blossom into the woman she'd once thought she'd be. confident and healing; soothing and dependable.

She spoke so softly, almost like she didn’t believe in herself, and that didn’t sit right with him.

Well… he started, his tone carrying a drawl that somehow softened the weight of his words, take a few days t’think about it. No rush.

He tilted his head slightly, his amber eyes meeting hers with a steady, reassuring gaze. I’ll meet 'ya back here, and you can tell me what y’think. His voice was kind, free of judgment, offering her space to decide on her own terms.

Cole adjusted his posture slightly, looking back out over the snow-covered expanse. Ain’t always about fightin’ or huntin’, y’know, he added after a pause, his voice quieter but no less certain. Sometimes, what a place really needs is someone who brings somethin’ softer.

The hint of a small smile touched his lips, and then he nodded forward as if encouraging her to keep walking.

the mountain man offered for her to mull it over. it was a gentlemanly thing to do; let her decide on her own time, at her own pace. winslet smiled then, truly soft and warm, the kind that made the corner of her eyes crinkle. "i will." she promised. 

change was scary, but cole seems to believe in her, and maybe that's all she needs. maybe that's all she's ever needed. 

her heart feels fuller than before. a fullness that she hadn't felt since kathhara, since before her ex-fiancé. it's strange and unfamiliar, but welcomed. her tail sways with the breeze, her steps just a little lighter. 

something softer...she lifted her head so sage eyes could meet amber. "you are a very good man, cole." she hummed, softly and earnest. heartfelt. and although their walk hadn't quite ended yet, she find herself yearning to see him again. "if i join, perhaps then i will teach you to fish, yes?" winnie mused softly as they continued their walk. 

she knew that soon, he'd have to return to his pack and his duties. it saddened her, but the thought of speaking to him again kept her spirits lifted.

you can fade in your next post, if you wish < 3 i love them sm

Cole shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. I don’t know about all that, he said, his voice low, unhurried, as though he didn’t take the compliment too seriously. Just doin’ what needs doin’.

Amber eyes flicked toward her as they walked, catching the softness in her smile and the light sway of her tail. It was strange, this feeling of warmth that her words and presence seemed to bring. Unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Teach me to fish? he repeated, a hint of humor in his tone. Well, if you do join, I guess I wouldn’t mind learnin’ a thing or two. His gaze shifted back to the path ahead, the faintest trace of warmth in his usually stoic expression.

As the edge of the meadow loomed closer, he slowed his pace slightly, dragging out the moment before he’d have to part ways with her. Take your time thinkin’ on it, he said, glancing her way again. Ain’t no rush. But I’ll be around if you need anything.

With that, he fell into a companionable silence, letting their steps carry them forward, already hoping to cross paths with her again.