Bearclaw Valley There's nothin' sweeter than my baby

The sun hung low in the sky, its warm, golden rays cascading over the valley like a soft embrace. Cole's steps were steady as he led the way, the familiar paths etched into his memory guiding them forward. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers and pine, and the distant hum of a brook trickled faintly through the stillness.
Not far now, he rumbled, his voice low, carrying a steadiness that matched his stride. He glanced back at @Nephele, her presence a quiet warmth at his flank, before returning his gaze to the path ahead.
After some time, the trees began to part, revealing an opening in the dense woodland. They stepped into a glade, a clearing cradled by the valley’s gentle slopes. The centerpiece of the scene was a wide, shallow pool of water, its surface so still it mirrored the sky above like a pristine glass. Around the edges of the pool, vibrant wildflowers in shades of blue, yellow, and purple swayed gently in the breeze, albeit beating the winter's chill in the shade.
Above them, a single, massive willow tree stretched its arms wide, its branches dipping low to kiss the pool’s edge. The golden sunlight filtered through the cascading leaves, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow across the glade.
Can't deny that view.

she was drowning — the water filling her lungs, suffocating her in doubts, in desire. it burned with each breath, each step a crash against the waves of emotions that pulled her beneath the surface. muffled screams, lustful whispers. she was floating at the end of it all, tethered to a string that lead her across the valley, but she couldn't see who was at the end of the rope. it was dark, vision blurred.

cole was a bottomless well, and she'd jumped in willingly.

sun rays dotted her face, a flutter of eyelashes clearing the fogged edges of her sight. and what she saw when the haze cleared left her jaw parted in awe. a scene crafted from brushstrokes of heavenly artistry. her lips parted, a single word spoken in to the sprawling sunset.

"beautiful."

she stood alongside cole, heartbeat steady, admiring all there was to bask in. she glanced toward him, toward the speckles of sunlight that kissed his face, his lips. she took a step, and then another, wading through the willow branches as she let them caress against her side in gentle strokes. she worked her way to a flower, nose dipped low to inhale it's fragrance.

she'd thought them all dead in winter but here they were, blossoming in the thick of it all.

Her awe-struck whisper hadn’t escaped him, nor had the way her lips parted at the sight of the blossoms thriving in the heart of winter. It made him smile—a slow, warm curve of his lips as he watched her.
He moved toward the willow’s roots, settling himself against the massive trunk like it was an old friend. The rough bark pressed against his back, grounding him as he stretched out, legs crossed and head tilted slightly to follow her movements. The sunlight dappled through the branches, catching on the silver in his fur and the lines of his face. He let out a low hum, content.
Come ’ere, he drawled, his voice a gentle rumble that carried easily to her. He lifted his chin, nodding toward the space beside him, the invitation unmistakable. His eyes were steady, soft, yet held that ever-present edge of something unspoken—something deeper.
Got plenty’a room, he added, his tone teasing but not unkind. He watched her with quiet patience, the warmth in his eyes unyielding, as if there wasn’t a place in the world he’d rather be than right there, under the willow, waiting for her.

she went from one flower to the next, admiring each for it's determination to grow through such trialing times. as cole worked his way to the willow's trunk, nephele toed near the pool's edge, glancing down to the glimmering water to see her own reflection.

she looked different than how she remembered herself.

his words tore her from the wooden basin, her steps mindful of the flora as she worked her way over to him. "i can see why it's your favorite spot," she praised, the corner of her lips teasing oh so gently upwards.

"thank you," she started as she settled beside him, "for trusting me with it." there were hints that this little slice of heaven had been only of cole's knowlege until now. he hadn't had to share it with her yet he did, and she appreciated him for it.

There was something calming about watching her move through the space, like she belonged there, like she was meant to be a part of the quiet beauty surrounding them.
He gave a soft chuckle at her words, shaking his head slightly. Ain’t nothin’ to it, he drawled, his tone warm, almost dismissive, but with a quiet sincerity woven through. Figured you’d appreciate it.
His eyes lingered on her for a moment, thoughtful. Ain’t many folks I’d bring here, he admitted, his voice lower, more thoughtful now. But… I reckon you got a way of makin’ things feel right. He paused, then added with a faint smile, This place deserves that.
Shifting slightly, he patted the ground beside him. Go on, get comfortable. Ain’t no rush out here.

his choice of words stirred a bout of uncertainty in her — nothin' to it — then was this place not as special, not as important as she'd thought it was? or maybe she was overthinking it and it was special, and it'd just been easy to bring her here.

she swallowed hard, picking at his words like they were blemishes upon her face.

she eyed where he patted the earth, a step of hesitancy before she eventually slid down to rest beside him. her mind raced, the voice in her head too loud to think —

"i feel like you know more about me than i do you," she let out, staring hard into the white of her paws. a breath, "you had a daughter," she recalled with a gentle tone, thinking back to an earlier conversation, one she had not pressed before until now. "were you married too?" she wondered aloud, curious, hopeful, that he might be willing to share.

Cole's jaw tightened as the question hung between them. He stared out toward the water, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, it seemed like he might not answer at all. Finally, he nodded, his voice clipped and deliberate.
Yeah, he said, the word heavy with unspoken weight. Had a daughter. His gaze flicked to her briefly, then back to the rippling surface of the pool.
Another pause. His brow furrowed as he leaned back against the willow’s roots, his paw idly tracing patterns on her back furs. Had a wife, too, he added, his tone even but lacking warmth. That didn’t last long. She left not long after my girl was born.
There was no bitterness in his voice, but there wasn’t much else, either. We were too young. He didn’t elaborate, didn’t offer any more than that. The words were like stones, solid and final.

the air turned tense the moment the last syllable left her mouth and she'd regretted her question immediately. maybe she shouldn't have asked him that.

it dawned on her then that there'd been a lot of that this past hour. maybe she shouldn't have found him, maybe she shouldn't have kissed him, maybe she shouldn't have asked for him, maybe shouldn't have followed him, maybe she just shouldn't.

but she kept listening because she wanted to know him, wanted to take the chance to learn more of his guarded world, wanted to hold onto the feeling of him brushing against her back if even for a moment longer!

she clung to the thought that only she knew this about him, that he'd shared this only with her. he didn't want to burden her but oh, how she wanted to be burdened. with his woes, with his affection. she wanted to drown in it.

young. they'd been too young. he'd called her young. was that why he'd told you to take a man her own age? she was too young? a mistake, or just a mirror of bad memories for him?

she licked at her lips not knowing what to say, so she said nothing at all.

Cole exhaled a quiet sigh, the kind that carried more weight than he'd ever admit. He shifted, his broad frame leaning closer as he reached out and pulled Nephele against him, his paw steadying her at her side. The way her tension seeped through her was as plain as the day stretched before them, and it gnawed at him.
You're nervous, he murmured, his tone low and steady, tinged with that familiar roughness. I can feel it. His gaze searched hers, soft but steady. You ain't gotta be like that 'round me, darlin'.
He'd often forget that he was a man of prowess, of stature that could often...be off-putting. Ain't gon'say the wrong thing.
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle before he tipped his head slightly, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and something warmer, something softer. Where'd you come from, huh? Before I found 'ya? Tell me. The invitation was gentle, coaxing—an open door rather than a demand. She didn’t need to hide here, not from him.

she didn't fight the pull, deciding then to push away the thoughts that clawed at her and simply melt in his embrace. "of course i'm nervous," a whisper, eyes glancing upward to try and steal a glimpse of him. "you make me nervous," but there was no mention in her tone that suggested it was fear that drove such a comment. on the contrary, it was anything but.

she grasped a foreleg of his, aiming to place it on her chest so that he might feel her racing heartbeat.

"came from a stretch of golden fields, we called it yellowstone, it's where my kids were born. before that it was a glacier named morningsong," she thought briefly of dutch, wondering what had become of him, of his wife and assumed children.

"and before that it was the mountainside of my homeland." her memories of that place were more distant now, more greyed than they were colorful. "what about you?" she turned to inquire then, wondering where cole had grown and flourished before the valley.

Cole chuckled low in his chest, the sound rumbling through his frame as she placed his foreleg over her heart. He could feel the quick thrum beneath his paw, and for a moment, he just let himself exist in the simplicity of it—the warmth of her, the rhythm of her pulse.
Yellowstone, Morningsong, mountainside, he repeated, his drawl wrapping around each word like it was something sacred. You've seen a lot of ground, huh? His tone softened, and he tilted his head to meet her gaze. You miss any of it?
He let the question hang for a beat before he shifted slightly, pulling her a little closer, as though the proximity might keep the ghosts of her past at bay. Me? His voice turned introspective, quieter. Came from a small place. Good folk, mostly. The kinda folks you share everythin' with, watch each other's kids. His jaw tightened briefly, his gaze slipping past her to some distant memory. Till they weren’t so nice no more.
The corner of his mouth tugged in something like a grimace, and he shook his head slightly as though to clear the thought. Still. Some days, I miss the quiet. The simplicity. His eyes found hers again, steady and grounding. But here’s where I landed. Can’t change that now.

it was easy to be swallowed by the comfort of cole, to bury herself in his warmth and forget all other aspects of her world for even just a moment. she took a breath, lungs expanding with the scent of the man she lay against and the wildflowers that surrounded the pair of them.

"no. it's easy not to miss something you hardly ever knew," she answered with a shrug, feeling no particular attachment to any prior territory. for a time she had thought, had hoped, that yellowstone would have become a home. that she would have raised generations of children and grandchildren there while looking out upon to the sprawling plains. but it was just a dream.

nephele had come to realize it didn't matter where she settled, as long as she had her family she'd be content.

cole's own history sounded nice enough, until it didn't. she let out a thoughtful hum, eyes cast out to the wide valley that lay before them. "i think bearclaw is becoming a place like that. good community, caring for each other, offering a shoulder to lean on."

she tilted her head against him further, eyes squeezed shut as she let out an exhale and just imagined of what the valley could become for a moment.

"it sounds nice."

It does sound nice, he agreed, his voice low and gravelly. Ain't many places like that left. Not ones that stay that way. He paused, his jaw tightening slightly. Takes work to keep it good, to keep folks lookin' out for each other. But Bearclaw... it’s got a chance. We’ve got a chance.
He glanced down at her, his eyes softening as he caught the quiet ease in her expression. And you’re part of that now, he said simply, with a firm nod. Whether you believe it yet or not, you belong here, Nephele. You’ve got people now.
He reached up, brushing a loose strand of fur from her cheek, the gesture surprisingly tender for the gruff man. I’ll make sure of it, he murmured, his voice steady, a quiet promise in his tone.

his voice and words were uplifting, but nephele, consumed by a history not endowed with hopefulness, couldn't help but wonder when it would all come to an end. bearclaw would not last forever, she knew this as a truth more than anything.

but he was right, they had a chance.

"it would be the first," she mused, tacking on shortly after, "bearclaw would be the first place where i feel like i could rely on others." she'd not found that sense of kindredness amongst any other group, not even her family.

"i have you to thank for that, mostly."

His ears twitched as he mulled over her sentiment, a quiet hum escaping him before he spoke.
You don’t need to thank me, he said plainly, though his voice carried a depth that belied the simplicity of his words. Just doin’ what’s right. He glanced at her, the edges of his mouth curling into a faint, almost bashful smile. I guess it helps that you haven’t made it hard to care.
His gaze drifted toward the valley spread before them, his thoughts quieter now, measured. Bearclaw’s got a shot because of folks like you, he added after a moment, his tone resolute. It’s not just me. It’s everyone, pullin’ their weight. We keep that up, maybe we’ll make somethin’ that lasts.
He let the silence settle for a moment before turning his focus back to her, his voice gentler this time. But I’m glad you feel like you can count on me. Because you can. Always.