Raven's Watch our filthy hands can wash one another's.

Frost was quietly pleased with himself as he stood at the water's edge and looked down at his reflection. His limbs trembled a bit, and he had definitely looked better in his life, but he'd come a long way from the heap Antha and Stjor had rescued from the pines. He knew his recovery was entirely a reflection of their efforts. He could've given up a long time ago.

The boy let those thoughts fade before they took too much control over him. The stream was covered in a layer of ice that he had broken with a now rather cold paw. He bent to swallow a few mouthfuls of the frigid water and shut his eyes to enjoy it. Once his thirst was quenched, he sat back and went to work licking his wet paw, trying to warm it back up before he returned to the den to rest more.

The rib bone of the fallen stag still held a small morsel. The carrion had led her to the fall of the beast—taken by what appeared to have been plain stupidity when it had misplaced the angular ledges of the mountains. Other animals had already claimed most of it’s offerings, but the silver arrow had been persistent when brushing in, snapping her own jaws at the cackling of other birds and the like, shredding into the meat and taking some to fill her own belly—and keenly taking another piece, believing it something to benefit someone.

Bright eyes fell upon the icy form of another—she did not recognize the youth, but Stjornuati’s scent was marked upon him, if the cold winter air did not lie to her.

Loping forward, she dropped the prize, her eyes studying the battered fellow with lifted brows upon her slender coppered face. “You hungry?”

Frost paused his ministrations when he heard the approach to another. His ears perked as he looked up and saw her--a pretty girl of silver and gold with eyes a shade lighter than his. He lowered his paw to the ground as she finished closing the distance between them and he watched as she dropped something to the ground as she stopped. His focus was stolen by it, though he knew it was impolite. He couldn't help himself, though. To have food so nearby after weeks of starvation was enthralling for the still recovering boy.

His lifted a gaze at her question and blushed, his ears sweeping back. Clearly, she'd seen him staring. He licked his lips, hoping he hadn't also been drooling over it. He gave a soft smile in the next moment and shook his head politely. "No, it's yours," he said in his soft voice, "I've taken too much from the pack already without giving back."