Meadowlark Prairie No wealth, no ruin, no silver, no gold

There was still a limp to Cicero's step and the wounds on his right leg looked festering and infected. The blisters upon it oozed with pain even today, which had confirmed to the young researcher that indeed, when applied to open wounds, poison ivy was much, much worse. Presently he had taken it upon himself to rig another piece of meat he had taken from the Woods' caches; part of a deer's haunch which he had stuffed with a plant he thought to be poisonous, but was not entirely sure of.

With the piece of deer haunch in his mouth Cicero limped through the meadow, searching for a next subject or an opportunity of sorts. Maybe not a wolf, this time, but another creature as not to rouse too much suspicion from other wolves about his intentions. Just as he thought this ears perked up and he noted another wolf in the distance, heading straight towards him.