Bearclaw Valley it means i'm broken and lame

as the morning grows later, yawning towards early afternoon the sun plays hide and seek behind thick candyfloss clouds that drift lazily across the skyline to obscure it. it's not hot — which the obsidian and smoke merle dappled man should be glad for, he reminds himself — but it isn't cold either. it's ...pleasant. a nice reprieve from the rain and mist he'd first been greeted into these wilds with, at any rate. with his stomach sated with a freshly caught rabbit, he cleans the bits of carrion, tufts of fur and blood from his muzzle burying what little bit remains — bones, mostly. from there, joaquin sets off with the intent of imprinting the valley's layout into his mind and, perhaps, taking a patrol in the meadow outside; following the same path the bearwitch had taken him on just but a handful of hours ago now.

She spied him through the growth, from behind; a wolf cut from granite and strong and already her mind mistook him for another. Phoebe thought for certain she had found Revui again and how he was a very clever, very slippery sort of company to elude her. Of course, he had his things to keep him busy and she had her things, but nevertheless a familiar stature through spring’s foliage is more than enough to lure her in.

She thought herself sneaky too, at least in the sense that she did not think he would be aware of her trailing him, catching those little snippets of grey where green did not overpower it. It is a playful hunt that set to overtake her, and she wove carefully, cleverly, through all the valley had to offer in the breadth between them.

When the moment seemed right, she set to pounce out, though perhaps not so dramatically as a hunter about to snare its prey; “Hey you!” she announced, only to realize as she spilled out on the path behind him that he is not Revui. She very suddenly did not want to be Phoebe, any more.

Crap.

“Oh, oh no, you’re not who I thought you were,” she said then in some combination of embarrassment and disappointment. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were my friend—” and an awkward laugh left her in that oh wow I hope you weren't doing something important way.

though, perhaps as any trained warrior should, joaquin had not been aware that he was the target of a playful hunt. in the aftermath, he might consider how grandfather would be horribly disappointed with that knowledge, but in the here and now the st. clair's defense was as good as any truth that came from the lips of the keeper of secrets: he was more focused on learning the layout of his new home; distracted. curious, in a subsidiary fashion, about the bear god(s) he hears tell of.

hey you!

the announcement of a stranger's voice laced deep with perceived familiarity ...wrongful familiarity. startled, joaquin turns around to face his new packmate; brow raising into a questioning arch as she informs that this is a case of mistaken identity. joaquin knows that in terms of standing out he did not stick out quite as much as alexandre or some of his other relatives; he was lucky his merle was a soft, smoke grey and blended well enough with the obsidian of his coat that in some instances it probably wasn't even noticeable.

it's quite alright, because while raised by mobsters, joaquin had not been raised by boars. his tone is low, attempting to assuage and brush off any notion of embarrassment she might hold to. i'm joaquin, he offers his name in introduction, tail shifting against his hocks; amiable. and you are ...? he encourages.

“Phoebe,” she offers, thankful immediately that Joaquin isn’t offended in the slightest. ‌The fact that he’s friendly helps to bolster her from the blunder—she mirrored the gentle wave of his tail with her own and found a smile emerge from the embarrassment writ on her face.

“You must be new,” she goes on, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Unless of course, he was actually just being very polite and was actually one of those guys who liked to hide out from everyone. She had clued in to such a thing, finally, especially since a certain few were particularly good at it.

Of course, given the events of recent… maybe hiding out wasn’t a bad a thing. And for as much as she wanted to ask him how he liked Ursus so far, she at least had the sense to wait for him to confirm or deny that he wasn’t one of those hiding out guys.

you have a lovely flow to your writing