Blacktail Deer Plateau the paramount and pompous disregard the cipher

His talk of winter earned an agreeable nod from Mordecai, who knew all too well what sort of things were stirred up in the midst of winter. He had seen packs crumble beneath the strain of much worse winters and was thankful that none of that had happened here. Or so it would have seemed. The Plateau stood strong, just as the Spine had, the latter he momentarily thought had been because of his own work towards keeping it that way. Cara had kept it up, for the most part, from what he could gather and in turn the ill will she had towards him had waned, perhaps.

But the talk of spring brought him to what he had said originally to Dante — that he was looking for a home only through until the spring. It was safe to say that it was approach now and steadily, though Mordecai found himself relenting on what he had said. He felt as though he hadn't done enough to repay Dante's kindness. "Spring also means that the herds will have young around before too long. There's a few decently sized ones out on the flatlands we could give chase." While he was an explorer at heart, Mordecai was also a decent hunter; he licked his chops at the prospect of them hunting eventually. Though they had been in pursuit of game from week to week, he longed for the even keel of the fields to run through.

"When's the last time we all had a proper feast here?" he asked, a humored grin splitting his face.